


The Shadow King's Heart

by lovelyleftovers



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s), Romance, semi-au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-24 19:56:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6164878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyleftovers/pseuds/lovelyleftovers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyoya knows everyone, including their potential usefulness to him. But at his father's party with Japan's elite, he's surprised to find a face he doesn't know-an American girl with bright red hair and piercing eyes. As fate continues to bring them together, Kyoya is forced to answer the most important question: is this girl worth risking his entire future for? (NOTE: OC introduced)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Strangers at a Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note: this is based on the anime and not the manga. It picks up sometime after the anime ends and does not use material from the manga. I've gone off on my own here: that's why it's a semi-AU. Also, I am introducing an OC in this story.

Kyoya's eyes slid easily over the guests. It was not rare for his family to come to functions like these, but it was a little unusual that they were hosting one in their own home. His father had mentioned something about the family becoming out of touch with proper society, but Kyoya had to wonder if this was another test to see which of the three sons was most impressive around potential clients and business partners.

He adjusted his glasses. Of course he looked friendly enough—insert smooth smile and a compliment to the wife of a major electronics manufacturer—but inside, Kyoya was just as cold and calculating as he'd ever been. This was his possible future being dealt with here. Even if his older brothers were obviously shoe-ins for their father's successors, Kyoya was determined not to give up. Not yet, anyway.

This was about the moment when his eyes lit across an unfamiliar figure. It was her hair that caught his eye: a deep but vibrant red, so unusual to see anywhere in Japan. He immediately wondered if it was a dye-job. She was too far away to tell properly. But it was pushed behind her shoulders in large loops, exposing her shoulders. Like most of the other girls in the room, she was wearing a modest—but very large—gown. Hers specifically was a dark blue.

Before he knew what was happening, his feet started moving towards her. He tried to shake the small feeling of unbalance. Kyoya was not used to seeing unfamiliar faces almost anywhere. His brain was a data bank of possible contacts and "friends." He had to know where this girl belonged.

She was standing in a corner of the room, hands cupped easily around one of the crystal glasses. It didn't take long for him to reach her. As he approached, he realized she did not notice him—she was staring at the ceiling.

"Hello, miss," Kyoya said. He bowed slightly, something that felt so natural now after entertaining so many girls at the host club.

She glanced his way before returning her eyes to the ceiling. Her eyes were a wonderfully pale blue. This close, he realized that her hair color was as natural as the freckles sprinkled over her nose. She looked American—who did she belong with?

Kyoya straightened slightly as she glanced at him again, this time focusing her gaze. She instantly turned as red as her hair.

"I'm so sorry," she stammered. "Er—hello."

He'd been right; American accent. He smiled down at her. She was fairly short for an American girl but probably around his age. "May I ask what has captured your gaze?"

The corners of her mouth twitched a little. His gaze followed hers, but he could see nothing out of the ordinary.

"It's, um, it's the chandelier," she said.

He looked at it for a moment. The sounds of all the other guests filled their silence. "Is there something wrong with it?" he asked finally.

"Oh! No, excuse me. I had been wondering what it would be like to paint it."

"You're a painter?"

She nodded softly, her eyes still on the light.

Kyoya looked at her as kindly as possible, but his attention was wavering. Was she stupid? Or was it the language? Her Japanese seemed solid enough, but it was a little hard to tell.

"Please forgive my rudeness," he said. "I'm Ootori Kyoya."

"Melanie Coin—oh, wait, I mean Coin…Melanie?"

Kyoya felt all interest drop instantly. She was even worse than Tamaki had been when he'd first arrived from France. But Coin? That wasn't a name he was at all familiar with.

"My aunt is married to Hashimoto Daichi." Melanie's eyes turned to meet Kyoya's coolly.

"I see." He smiled, and tried to ignore a jolt of unease. Her eyes were like the purest artic ice. In one instant, her whole demeanor had changed. "Enjoying the party?"

Yes, he knew about Hashimoto's American wife, April—surname Greenland. He'd picked her up during his business dealings in American film. A rags to riches story indeed. That didn't explain how the woman's niece ended up in Kyoya's house on this particular evening, although he knew better than pry.

"Yes, thank you," she replied. "Are you?"

Kyoya resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. There was almost a challenge rising in her body language, the way she shifted her weight away from him, the slight pursing of her lips.

"I am, thank you," he said. He cursed inwardly to hear that most of the friendliness had dropped from his tone.

"Kyoya!"

His eyes were instantly drawn to the sound—Tamaki was making his way towards them, an inaudible laugh dancing across his features.

"Excuse me, Ootori-sama. I will leave you to your important guests."

Kyoya looked down to see Coin bowing slightly. When her eyes met his, he merely nodded, not able to muster the smile anymore. It was like she could see right through him anyway.

She stepped around him, chin high, and disappeared smoothly into the crowd around the dance floor.


	2. Facets like a Chandelier

"Who was that?"

"Hashimoto Daichi's American niece. Melanie Coin." Kyoya adjusted his glasses. He'd tried to keep her in his sights, but she was just too small.

Tamaki nodded cheerfully. "Her hair was like the twins'."

"Darker," Kyoya said. "More like—"

"Like…?"

Kyoya sighed and folded his arms. What was he about to say? There was no reason to pique Tamaki's interest. There was no way this girl was of any consequence of theirs—unless she was transferring to their school. Kyoya resisted the urge to smirk at the thought of her stumbling upon their host club.

"Have you had enough dancing?" Kyoya asked.

Tamaki swept one arm across the crowd and thumped his chest with the other. "I could never tire of this beautiful night! Your piano player is quite wonderful." His arms dropped. "I wish Haruhi was here."

Kyoya unfolded his arms but pocketed his hands. He made a small noise of affirmation in the back of his throat.

"Suoh-kun!"

Tamaki waved wholeheartedly at the middle aged woman calling him from the dance floor. "Try to have fun, Kyoya!"

Kyoya sighed and then checked his phone. There were still hours of this left. He gathered his resolve and managed to recover his smile. He had a lot more schmoozing to do.

…

Three hours passed before Kyoya managed to sneak off on his own. He tried not to worry about all the people he hadn't spoken to. Sometimes he needed to take a moment and collect himself—this time his moment was found deeper in the house, away from the guests and the light.

He loosened his tie a bit as he wandered deeper down a dark hallway. It was away from the kitchens and staff's quarters so it would definitely be quieter. But he still stayed close enough to hear the music, that lovely piano. The more steps he took, the more relaxed he became.

In fact, he was so relaxed that he almost missed that the balcony door slightly ajar.

He stopped in his tracks, and then reversed. Tamaki was dancing with the Hashimoto's niece, towering over her in a romantically picturesque way. They were moving easily, though her steps were fumbled. She was as uncultured as Kyoya suspected, but her partner was an excellent leader.

Kyoya stared as Tamaki said something and Coin laughed. It was a sound that reminded him of a boat's bow crashing over a wave, the rush of wind through the sails. It was uninhibited and almost…invigorating.

The song ended, and the couple on the balcony came to a slow stop. Coin stepped almost instantly out of Tamaki's grasp, her hands dropping to her sides. She still held his gaze however, an easy and friendly smile across her mouth.

She didn't seem to be at all smitten with Tamaki, which was a little surprising. Most girls were to some degree. But there was no coldness in her stance, her expression, like she'd shown Kyoya earlier. Before he could stop himself, Kyoya wondered what Tamaki had done that he hadn't.

Tamaki turned and began walking towards the door, bringing Kyoya back to his senses. Coin merely spun the other way, walking further out onto the balcony.

Tamaki smiled at Kyoya as he came inside. He put his left hand on Kyoya's shoulder. "She's nice," he said.

Kyoya felt a huge stab of annoyance, but Tamaki was off down the hall before he could come up with a proper comeback. With a sigh, he looked out at the girl. His eyes traced over her curved shoulders, her downcast head. She was obviously upset, but why?

He found himself outside and moving towards her before he was really thinking, so when he reached her, he had no idea what to say or do, for probably the very first time in his life. He came slowly to a stop just behind her.

She turned to face him, wiping a hand across her face. She smiled a little before turning away again. "I'm so sorry, Ootori-sama," she said. "I needed a break from the party and Souh-sama found me here—shouldn't you be entertaining?"

"I'm sure they're fine without me," he said. "Are you—"

"I have lived in this country for three months, but that is the first time someone has touched me."

This time Kyoya did raise his eyebrows.

"In America, everyone is always touching. Hugging, kissing cheeks, grasping hands, that sort of thing. My best friend and I used to hold hands at school at the time. Us girls would get together for sleepovers and flop into piles on the floor." Her eyes moved back to his. "I'm sorry, that rant was very rude. Ever since my parents died, it's been very lonely. How's my Japanese?"

Not for the first time, Kyoya felt a little flustered. It wasn't the same way Tamaki had made him feel in the beginning—always with the infuriating demands having to be met—but it was like running in sand with this girl.

"It's suitable," Kyoya said finally. "For an American."

She grinned. "I'll take it. Suoh-sama was very kind, though he was surprisingly familiar with me. It was nice to be called by my first name again, but he insisted on my calling him Senpai. Is that a personality quirk?"

Kyoya resisted the urge to sigh. "More like a long story."

"Ah."

Kyoya stepped forward and leaned on the railing next to Coin. "Is your uncle sending you to school?"

"Oh yes, your school starts back up soon." She shook her head. "I'm finishing up all my schooling online. Our dynamic is… complicated."

Kyoya made a note of this, but felt a little guilty when she glanced at him.

"There's nothing you can use from me, I'm afraid," she said flatly. "I'm not a Hashimoto. I haven't even been to the house."

Kyoya noted that she didn't mention any of the Hashimoto's other six properties across the country. She must not even know about them.

"I just paint," she continued. "And I try to stay out of everyone's way."

Kyoya felt oddly stirred by the last comment, though she'd delivered it factually, clinically even. She was taking him through so many emotions, though at a more mellow volume than Tamaki. And unlike Tamaki, she was making Kyoya feel them with her, however faintly.

She threw her arms over the railing suddenly, an easiness settling over her posture. "Actually, this is the first and only time I will be out in Japan's high society. If you have any questions, please, ask away."

He nodded. "What do you paint?"

"Everything. But mostly people."

"Why do you like painting people?" Kyoya felt comfortable with this line of questioning.

"When I look into someone's eyes for that long, it's almost like I can gain access to a facet of who they are. Sometimes it's just a sound or an object, but I can basically see it in my head. And then I try to convey that on canvas."

"How interesting," he said. How odd, he thought. "What did you see in Tamaki's eyes?"

"A field in the middle of a meadow. The field was absolutely covered in wildflowers." Her gaze moved away from Kyoya, her expression turning serious. "Beyond the woods, there was a heavy smoke rising. And a wind was bending the flowers toward the smoke."

Kyoya was a little impressed, but also disturbed at how accurate that was. Tamaki was their lonely king, whose worries were never as far away as he pretended.

"Her name is Haruhi?"

Again, Kyoya was left unbalanced. "Excuse me?"

"The girl he's in love with," she said. When he didn't answer, she looked up at him. Her smile just barely reached her eyes. "You too, maybe?"

Kyoya stiffened as she straightened up. "I'm not—"

"I sincerely apologize for overstepping," Coin said, bowing. "Thank you for your time, Ootori-sama."

For the second time that night, Coin brushed past him and disappeared from his sight. Kyoya wanted to know what she saw when she looked in his eyes. But how could he have possibly brought himself to ask?


	3. A Face in the Crowd

The party ended, and life continued on as usual for both the Ootori family and the Ouran Host Club. School started up again, weeks crawled along at their usual pace, and Tamaki kept Kyoya busy with his incessant and crazy scheming.

He only thought about Coin in the first few days after the party, mostly when he was around Haruhi. He thought a lot about what Coin had said, about his feelings for the young woman. He determined rather quickly that, yes, there was something arresting about Haruhi's naiveté, especially balanced with her unusual knack for observing and deciphering the actions of others. Not to mention she was fairly cute.

Sure, maybe he cared for her more than any other girl, but his feelings were not nearly as strong as Tamaki's. Was caring for someone more than others love? Kyoya thought about this a lot those first few days. He decided that it wasn't, not for him.

He also decided that he kept thinking about Coin mostly out of annoyance. She talked in circles, but that was probably just to throw him off. He was mortified that he had allowed it. Even if Haruhi had occasionally called his bluffs, he had never once slipped in front of anyone. He found comfort in the fact that he would never see the convoluted Coin again.

And then she was gone, just a water-color memory. That is, until one Tuesday evening when she wasn't.

Kyoya was walking down an Ouran hallway, leaving for the day. The building was empty except for a few club stragglers like himself—while the other hosts had gone home, he'd stayed behind to work on some new marketing ideas. Not that their regulars weren't enough, but it was always nice to see new faces in the club.

He was walking by a large set of windows, and something turned his head. On the lawn, a person with bright red hair was standing in front of an easel. She had a canvas in her left hand, the bottom edge propped against her hip. She seemed to be pointing at the campus' large clock tower.

Kyoya made it to the lawn in record time. He was more curious than anything, he thought to himself. His driver jumped out of the car, but Kyoya held a finger up as he walked past, merely dropping his bag onto the car's trunk. He made a bee-line for Coin, his feet almost bouncing on the still-pliable grass of late summer.

The closer he got, he noted that she was wearing baggy jeans and a gray t-shirt. She was barefoot, but Converse shoes and socks lay not too far behind her. Her hair was pulled up into a ridiculously messy bun on the crown of her head. What appeared to be a pile of small canvases sat off to her left. She was no longer pointing at the tower, but was carefully sketching on the canvas.

Kyoya came to a stop near her, but stayed silent. She continued to scratch away, but a small smile crept across her lips.

"Are you here to chase me off the grounds?" she asked.

Kyoya said nothing.

"I'll be gone as soon as I—" She glanced at him and instantly choked on her words.

"Hello, Coin-san," he said, smiling pleasantly. His tone reverberated with perfect politeness, which pleased him to no end.

"Ootori-sama," she replied. She appeared less enthused, her expression turning more serious. "This is quite the surprise."

"Perhaps more so for me," he said. "I do go to school here, after all."

Coin instantly turned red. "This is a school?!"

"It is. The children of Japan's elite are all gathered here," Kyoya said.

"I see."

Kyoya watched as Coin's eyes moved from his to the canvas in her hands. There was the clock tower, lightly outlined in pencil on the surface. Her shirt had a picture of Edgar Allen Poe and a raven. The raven's speech bubble said 'He's just a Poe boy from a Poe family' in English.

Coin jabbed the pencil into her hair, leaving it there, and looked out at the clock. "I thought this was some sort of government building or something," she said. "The lawn is so big."

"You should see the gardens out back."

Coin laughed, but it was nothing like what Kyoya had overheard on the balcony. This one was as sharp as a winter wind, and just as bitter. He instantly regretted saying anything.

She placed the painting-in-progress on the easel before turning around. Without acknowledging him, she walked a few feet before sitting heavily on the ground and pulling her socks and shoes on.

Without looking up, she said, "I never paint with things on my feet."

"I'm sure you don't have to leave," Kyoya said.

"It's getting late anyway." Coin shook her head before she muttered, "It's a high school. For the love of God."

After tying her shoes, she pushed herself up and brushed off the back of her pants. Kyoya instinctively looked away, a strange feeling settling over him. He noticed that out of such a ridiculous gown, she had a cute figure. This outfit seemed to suit her much better.

"What are those?" he asked, mainly to distract himself.

She turned to look in the direction of his gesture. "Oh, those are completed. I usually find a park to sit in and try to sell them."

She returned back to the easel and began to dismantle it. Kyoya stepped around her and crouched over the paintings.

"May I?" he asked.

He met Coin's eyes. They were wide, as if she were startled. Kyoya felt surprised as he looked at her. Where was this emotion coming from? He maintained her gaze, waiting.

Finally, she nodded. "Sure. Yes, okay."

He turned away and picked up the first painting. It was of a cherry tree growing in the middle of a street. City life was continuing all around the tree, but only small shafts of light could reach it from between the tall buildings. Wherever there was light, there were blossoms. Wherever there was not, the tree looked aged and sickly.

Kyoya laid it to the side and picked up the next one. This one held no political statement—it was an orange and white koi whose lips were breeching the surface of the water.

The one underneath the koi was of a park. It featured a bench with two occupants, but while the bench was dead center, it was in the painting's background. In the foreground, a jogger was entering from the right, head and feet cropped out of view. Some young students were gathered around a swing set halfway between the bench and the jogger, on the left hand side. But Kyoya's eyes kept returning to the bench.

He brought the painting closer to his face, and examined the patrons. On the right was a young woman, head down, a book raised halfway to her face. On the left was a young man, looking at her with so much yearning that Kyoya felt it himself.

He pulled back from the painting, trying to unsee the couple. He could not. He was no longer distracted by the motion on the sides, but by the tense and static moment in the center.

Placing the painting aside, Kyoya looked down at the final—and largest—painting. A small smile clung to the corners of his mouth as he reached down.

It was of a crystal chandelier, set against the smooth cream of its ceiling. The reflections in the glass revealed a party below, complete with a dance floor, piano, and mingling guests. Kyoya could almost hear the music as he searched for a red haired girl.

Coin leaned over him, close enough for him to feel the heat from her skin. Wordlessly, she pointed to a small piece of glass on the bottom right. Kyoya looked closer, realizing that it was the only fragment of the chandelier featuring only one person.

It was a young, dark-haired man. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but there was a tension in his shoulders. His face was upturned, his expression serious. His glasses redirected light, making him seem more shielded than any other guest. This young man's expression was serious, but there was something else there, too. Kyoya thought that the boy almost appeared to understand that all these people represented were flat reflections, trapped inside a two-dimensional image.

Kyoya was brought back to his thoughts as Coin began to stack the paintings together. He glanced over to see that she'd strapped the easel to her back, and was quietly preparing to leave. He stood as she did, and she reached out for the painting.

"How much?" he asked.

"What?" She furrowed her brow, hand still outstretched.

Kyoya cleared his throat. "How much is the painting?"

She laughed, but the sound was more relaxed than the last, as if he'd told a joke. "You want that one?"

"I do."

She shook her head, dropping her hand. "You can keep it. I've been trying to sell these ones for weeks. No one's interested in them, that one least of all."

"Please, I'll pay for it," Kyoya replied, a little stiffly.

Reaching out, Coin shook her head again. A little hesitantly, Kyoya handed the painting back to her.

"I have to sign it," she explained.

She lowered the other paintings to the ground and then flipped the chandelier over. Kyoya watched as she took a pink lipstick out of her pocket, smeared it quickly on her lips, and then kissed the bare canvas stapled to the painting's wooden frame. She returned the lipstick and produced a marker.

"I always leave the kiss, but personalize the signature," she continued. She pinned Kyoya to the earth with her gaze. "Who should I make it out to?"

Kyoya stared back at her for a long few moments. He placed his hands in his pockets slowly before clearing his throat. "Just Kyoya."

Coin smiled briefly before scribbling on the wood. She capped the marker and then tossed him the painting.

He caught it and turned it over as she retrieved the others. In English next to the lip-print were the words: To just Kyoya from just Melanie.

He looked up as she turned away from him. "Wait—my car can take you home."

She twisted and laughed at him. "I can find my way home. I like to walk. Goodbye, Ootori-sama."

Kyoya watched her leave, and noted with surprise that he would actually like to see her again.

…

Not even two days after Kyoya saw Coin on the school grounds, Tamaki brought the club members together before their club activities began.

"I propose we get our portraits painted!" he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically.

"Why?" the twins asked, in cadence.

As soon as Kyoya saw the look of interest in their eyes, he knew he was done for. Tamaki was bad enough, but easily persuaded away from something if the consensus was against him. With Hiachiin brothers at his back, Tamaki was unstoppable.

"We met someone at Kyoya's party who paints, and it got me thinking. Every king has his portrait painted, along with his court." Tamaki turned and winked a big blue eye at Kyoya.

Kyoya resisted the urge to snap the pen in his hand. Instead, he placed it in his pocket and leaned against the table behind him.

"Maybe worth trying," one of the twins shrugged.

"Sounds fun!" Honey crowed. He stuffed some chocolate in his mouth and grinned at Mori, who nodded slightly in response.

Kyoya was losing ground. He knew he only had one last hope.

"What do you think, Haruhi?" Tamaki's smile was brighter than a dying star.

Haruhi's eyebrows shot up and her expression turned contemplative. "I'm not sure. I've never thought about being painted before."

Kyoya adjusted his glasses. He was done for.

"Yahoo!"

Tamaki jumped to hug Haruhi but was intercepted by the twins. Honey looked on and laughed, while Mori's lips twitched almost imperceptibly in the corners.

"I'll make the arrangements," Kyoya said.

He turned away, a small knot in his stomach. He adjusted his glasses, feeling almost…excited. He knew exactly who he would find to paint them.

Haruhi snuck another glance at Kyoya. Was he actually smiling?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I slipped from third-limited POV's, but I'm trying something new with how I want to end some chapters, and the POV switch felt natural there. Bear with me while I experiment!


	4. A Girl Who's Hard to Find

"Kyoya," Tamaki dragged out the last syllable as long as he could.

Kyoya sighed, putting down his cup of commoner's coffee. "Be patient."

"His highness has never had to be patient before," one of the twins said, leaning over Kyoya's right shoulder.

"Especially when it comes to something you can provide," the other added, appearing over the opposite shoulder.

He glared into his coffee. "It's only been three days. She's just…hard to find."

It was true—he'd gone through almost all of his contacts looking for information, but no one seemed to know anything about her other than the Hashimoto family had moved her here after her parents' death. She'd been truthful when she'd said that she'd never been to the main house, and none of the staff even knew where she lived.

"You know what they say about a girl who's hard to find," the twin—who Kyoya suspected was Hikaru—said.

"There is no saying about that," Kyoya said. He had a feeling the twins were about to play some sort of prank on him.

The other brother opened his mouth to say something, but was—thankfully—interrupted.

"Who is hard to find?" Haruhi appeared at the table, instant coffee in hand. Her guests twittered a few tables over, already anticipating her arrival.

"The artist!" Tamaki whined. "You'd think she'd stand out more."

"Why would you think that?"

Haruhi seemed more interested than usual, but Kyoya had a suspicion it was more so the fact that Tamaki had an itch to find this other girl rather than her interest in being painted. Haruhi's moods towards Tamaki had shifted slightly since he'd almost run off to Paris to get married, though Kyoya doubted she understood why.

"She's an American with bright red hair," Kyoya replied.

"You know, I think I've seen her," Haruhi said. She turned and began walking towards her guests.

"What? Where?" Kyoya demanded.

"She sits in a park near the grocery store I go to," Haruhi called back. "She carries her paintings around with her."

Kyoya sat back in his seat, lifting an eyebrow.

"I could ask her if I see her on my way home today," Haruhi offered.

"No, that's fine." Kyoya adjusted his glasses. "I'd prefer to handle this myself."

The twins retreated back towards their guests. Kaoru looked pointedly at Kyoya. Hikaru just shrugged.

…

Kyoya had his driver wait at the entrance of the park, which caused a slight stir amongst the people on the street. He never minded the attention, mostly because he simply ignored it.

Some girls giggled as he walked past them. He checked his phone—2 o'clock, just like Haruhi had said. Coin should be around somewhere. Luckily the park was small, and Kyoya approached Coin on the path.

He recognized her even though a sunhat covered her hair. She was wearing a pretty pale gray sundress that stopped right below the knee, a purple sweater, and white sandals that were thrown under her lawn chair. Some paintings were spread out on the ground beside her, and her sketch book was resting on her lap. He ignored how truly relieved he was to see her there.

"Well, if it isn't Ootori-sama," she said as he reached her. She wagged a finger at him. "You must be the one lost this time."

"I'm right where I want to be, Coin-san." He returned her smile easily.

"Mel-chan!"

Kyoya turned to see some young children waving at them from the playground.

"Come play with us!"

"In a minute!" she called. "If you're going to continue popping up like this, you should just call me Mel," she added to Kyoya, waving back at the kids.

A little surprised, Kyoya pocketed his hands before removing them again. "Still trying to sell these ones, I see."

"They're a tough sell, but there's an older lady who stops by every morning on her way to the store. I think I can eventually convince her to take the koi." She squinted up at him, pulling the brim of her hat more over her eyes. "Why are you here, Ootori-sama?"

"You want me to be familiar with you, but you still call me so formally?" he said.

She smiled. "You never told me to call you anything different."

"Kyoya-senpai, at your service." He bent at the waist, took her hand off of her hat, and kissed the back of it firmly.

Her eyes went wide before she threw her head back and laughed. Kyoya was surprised as she squeezed his hand gently before pulling it away. "Who are you—Suoh-sama?"

Kyoya chuckled, straightening. "You remembered."

"He's hard to forget," she said. "He has quite a large personality."

Kyoya nodded. "He does. But there is a reason for the honorific. We run a club at school, and that is how the members refer to each other. That's actually why I'm here."

She nodded. "Please, go on."

"We would like to hire you to paint each member's portrait," he said.

She sat back in her chair, giving out a low whistle. "That school is no joke. A club wealthy enough to have the member's portraits painted?"

"Yes, well." Kyoya pocketed his hands again.

She stayed quiet, squinting at the kids across the path. "What sort of club do you run?"

"A host club. It's—"

Melanie laughed, cutting him off. "I know what it is. I didn't actually think those existed."

Kyoya smiled. "We are full of surprises, as I'm sure you'll see."

"How many paintings?" she asked.

"Six small ones and one large group."

She nodded before looking down at her paintings. Kyoya noticed one red curl had escaped the hat and was laying on the back of her neck. Her skin was tan from the sun. He had an overwhelming urge to brush his fingers against it to see if it was as warm as it looked.

"Would you mind coming over to my house?" she asked. She turned back, her eyes arresting him. "I would like to show you my portfolio and discuss prices before we make any final decisions."

Kyoya raised an eyebrow. "Is it wise to invite a strange man to your house?"

"Are you saying I shouldn't trust you?" she asked.

Kyoya didn't answer, though something inside him whispered that maybe she shouldn't—he couldn't even trust himself around her. That in itself was unnerving: was he losing his edge?

"Fine then," she said smoothly. "Where else would you like to meet?"

He cursed himself for his hesitation. She must have misunderstood his pause. "Would you like to come to the school? That way you can meet all the members."

"Mel-chan!"

Kyoya turned and saw the children waving at them from the swing set. Coin stood beside him, and when he turned back, she was smiling up at him. He almost felt lightheaded looking down at her. Her hand was on the back of her hat, and the other reached out and took his hand. She held it for a moment before shaking it gently.

"You have yourself a deal," she said. "When should I come?"

Kyoya felt his hand tighten reflexively around hers. Her hand was warm and small. There was a slight roughness across the pad of her palm. He hoped she couldn't feel how hard his pulse was pounding.

"Tomorrow," he said, a beat too late. "I'll meet you on the lawn."

"I'll be there, Kyoya-senpai."

Without another word, she slipped her hand from his and was off. He watched her stumble barefoot over the grass, laughing and holding her hat as the children raced over to meet her.

"Melanie!" The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

She turned back, her face alight with curiosity. The sun was mostly in his eyes, but as he took her in, hand in hand with a little girl, he was positive she was the most beautiful creature he would ever see.

"Just Kyoya," he called.

She smiled and waved before turning away and ushering the kids back to the swings.

He allowed himself to watch a moment more before making his way back to the car.

…

Melanie hugged her portfolio to her chest as she made her way across the lawn.

"Don't back out," she muttered. "Calm down. You're good at this. You deserve to be here."

Her positive self-talk wasn't helping, but she still tried to force herself to remain calm. Her stomach was in tight knots, and spotting Kyoya just a few hundred yards ahead did nothing to help her.

It had been so easy to say yes. He was sincere, and his smile had even reached his gray eyes as he'd asked her to call him senpai. He knew how handsome he was: she could tell the moment she met him. But this last time—well, he'd come looking for her.

He gave her a small smile as she neared. She returned it in full.

"Kyoya," she said. She loved the way his name felt as it rolled off her tongue, even as it stumbled over her accent.

"Melanie." He bowed slightly.

He seemed happy to see her, but it was getting harder to tell. Were her own emotions in the way? The back of her neck warmed. She held his gaze as he straightened.

"Shall we?" she asked.

"Let's."

She followed him as he turned away, straightening her spine. This would all be fine. Kyoya slowed just slightly so Melanie was almost next to him. Besides, Souh-sama would be there. She let out a soft laugh, remembering the way he'd swept her into his arms, convinced her to dance away from her sadness.

Kyoya looked down at her, surprise in his deep, gray eyes. She put a hand over her mouth, embarrassed, before smiling at him.

"I remembered something," she said.

"Oh?"

She nodded. "It was about Souh-sama."

A strange emotion flickered over Kyoya's face. Then his expression went blank. Melanie felt her own smile drop. What had she said wrong? She kept her eyes on Kyoya even as he averted his own and adjusted his glasses.

"It's just this way," Kyoya said smoothly.

Melanie nodded, the nerves returning. She really didn't belong here in this ridiculously ornate high school with this ridiculously handsome and cold boy. Her first instinct had been to drive him away—his eyes had been so calculating when they'd first spoken. But after he'd seen her cry…

She wondered what he had done with that painting after she'd let him have it. After all, it hadn't been for sale.

Kyoya stopped at a door, turned, and bowed deeply, gesturing broadly for her to open it.

She stood still for a few heavy moments. His demeanor had changed again. He glanced up at her, and his eyes had that same distance. Where was the boy from the park? Had she driven him away at the mention of Souh-sama? She felt her chin lift as she moved past him to the door. She put a strong hand on it and pushed it open without hesitating.

Rose petals swirled past her as the door swung open, almost with a life of its own. There, on an elegant throne, Souh-sama sat casually, a broad smile on his face. Around him were several handsome men, all posed in various faintly-seductive poses.

"Welcome to the Ouran High School Host Club," they said in unison.

There was another moment of heavy silence. Melanie sensed Kyoya come up behind her. There was almost an air of expectation around them.

Suddenly, she began to laugh, and not quietly. "Thank you for having me," she managed between breaths.

Souh-sama grinned and leapt from his seat. Melanie moved forward to meet him, but he grabbed her hand and twirled her in a circle.

"Mel-san!" he cried. "You are even more beautiful than I remember."

"And you are just as amusing." She smiled as he kissed her hand.

"I would never lie about a woman's looks," he said.

She carefully extracted her hand. "Thank you, Souh-sama."

"Ah, ah—senpai!" he corrected.

"So this is the American painter."

Melanie looked just past Souh-sama to see a devilishly handsome set of twins. They had spoken in perfect cadence, which caused a slight pain in her heart.

She curtsied to shake the memory that threatened to surface. "At your service." She looked up and winked at them, causing their eyes to widen slightly before identical grins slid across their faces.

"You're so pretty!"

She turned to a blonde boy who was clutching a stuffed animal to his chest. He seemed far too young to be a high schooler, but there was something about the strength in his stance, the set of his shoulders that made her think he was older.

"Thank you!" she said.

"I'm Honey, and that's Hikaru and Kaoru," said the blonde boy. He pointed at the twins, who were now leaning on Souh-sama's shoulders. "This is Mori!"

Melanie looked up at the man Honey-senpai gestured to. He was towering and strong, but as she saw his eyes flick from the boy to herself, she noticed a softness in his gaze. Maybe they were brothers?

"You have such kind eyes."

Mori-senpai's eyebrows shot up, and his face turned crimson red.

Melanie laughed nervously—the words had popped out before she could stop them. "I'm so sorry. Sometimes I speak without thinking first. I hope you don't find me rude."

"Mori wouldn't judge you over something like that!" Honey-senpai said. "He just doesn't hear that a lot. And that is Haruhi."

Melanie followed Honey-senpai's gesture to a slight figure standing behind everyone else.

"Hello."

Melanie met the large, light brown eyes, and instantly felt like a fresh breeze had enveloped her. Another girl here? This must be Souh-sama's Haruhi, then. Melanie smiled at her. "Hello."

"Now you've met everyone."

Melanie turned to see Kyoya with a clipboard in his hand. He was looking down at it indifferently. She felt her hand tighten instinctively on her book. Had this been a mistake? He seemed so different. This was the coldest she'd ever seen him, all facades dropped.

"Let us discuss the details!"

Melanie felt Souh-sama grab her hand, and she laughed as he dragged her to a table in the center of the room. The others followed, and soon they were all settled in their respective seats. Kyoya sat directly opposite of her and cleared his throat.

Melanie rushed ahead. "Before we discuss price, I would like to give you my sales pitch, okay?"

Kyoya raised his eyes to meet hers, and she could see he was slightly confused.

"But you're already hired!" Honey-senpai said.

She nodded, breaking her gaze with Kyoya. "I know, but I would like for you all to see my portfolio and hear about my process before we continue."

"Very well." Kyoya sat back in his chair.

Melanie stood, and placed her black book in the center of the table. It only took a second to flip open the cover, and it only took one more second for Kyoya to reach across the table and take it.

Melanie resisted the urge to tell him it was for everyone to see. "I've taken photos of all my commissions, as well as self-portraits."

"Let us see," the twins said, pushing Souh-sama out of the way.

"I usually spend a twenty-minute or so session with each client—wait." Kyoya looked up at her, and she cursed inwardly at her awkwardness. "Um, I mean—didn't you say it was for six small portraits?"

"I did," he replied.

"But there are seven of you."

"Oh, the twins will be in a portrait together," Souh-sama answered, trying unsuccessfully to get the portfolio from Kyoya.

"Well, that's not really fair, is it?"

The boys stopped vying for the book and stared at her. She cursed herself again when she felt her face heat up.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. But if everyone else gets their own portrait, why don't they?"

Souh-sama laughed. "You're right! You'll each get your own."

"Whatever," Hikaru-senpai said, but it wasn't any too friendly. Kaoru-senpai sent him a worried glance that Melanie tried not to feel guilty for.

Melanie kept her eyes on Kyoya's. They were unreadable again, but they weren't distant or disdainful. "We can discuss that later. Anyway, in that session I usually sketch the person, talk a little, and get to know them. There's more to a likeness than looks—I really have to see who they are, you know, as a person. Then I'll go home and paint."

"That's it?" Hikaru-senpai asked.

"That's it," Melanie said.

"Excellent!" Souh-sama clapped his hands and laughed.

"Now, as for price." Melanie straightened her spine and folded her hands. "I would like 82,764 yen for the lot."

The table went silent. Melanie felt sweat develop on the back of her neck. She wished she'd worn her hair up. Kyoya's eyebrows lifted again.

"I know that seems like a lot," she continued. "But you have to factor in the cost of supplies for me, as well as the labor. This is a dying art, you know, and I'm actually giving you a very fair price—"

"We were thinking something much different," Kyoya interrupted.

Melanie felt her heart drop. She wasn't sure she could accept much lower. She had put a lot of thought into this pitch, the offer. "But—"

Kyoya slid the clipboard across the table. Melanie held his amused gaze for a moment, growing suspicious. She pulled the clipboard toward her.

She had to look over the sheet three times to make sure she could see the number clearly. It was a little over five times her asking price. Her heart thudded unevenly in her chest at the prospect. God, what she could do with this money.

Something churned deep within her, something dark moving under the shock. This whole situation was rather strange, wasn't it? What was this, anyway? Some joke? Suddenly she felt cold. She had told Kyoya that her relationship with her relatives was strained. Was this some sort of test? Had he found something out? How did he even know where to find her in the first place? What did he know?

"So, what do you say, Mel-san?"

Melanie looked up instinctually at the sound of Souh-sama's voice, only to meet Kyoya's cool gaze. Once again he seemed surprised, but she had no idea why.

"I refuse," she said, her voice flat.

She felt the surprise ripple around her in a wave. The group was silent once again as she stood, took her portfolio off the table, and bowed.

"Thank you for your time," she said. "Please excuse me."

With that, she spun on her heel and stomped from the room.


	5. Convincing Her to Paint

Kyoya winced slightly as the door slammed. The group continued to sit in silence.

Tamaki turned his wide, distraught eyes to his second in command. "Kyoya, why—"

Before Kyoya could process it, he was on his feet and pulling the door open, dashing after Melanie.

He caught up with her on the lawn, his blood boiling. "Hey!"

She didn't stop until he grabbed her arm. She turned her eyes on him, and they were shining with pale molten fury. He released her immediately, but his own anger did not falter.

"Am I some joke to you?" she spat. "I am no one's toy, sir, especially not some bored rich boy who thinks he can take advantage of me."

Kyoya's hands fisted. "Is that what you think this is?"

She laughed again, that hard bitter sound he hated. "Well, it's pretty hard to forget that you're not 'Just-Kyoya' after that, now isn't it?"

Kyoya sucked in a breath. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. When they were at the park yesterday…he had felt like Just-Kyoya, for a moment.

"What do you know?" Her voice was more controlled.

"Excuse me?" His was not.

He held Melanie's gaze for a tense moment before he could see her body relaxing. The fight drained from her. Her expression changed into something sad and alone. It suddenly felt like he would never understand her, and something twisted painfully inside him.

"You know everything about everyone—I could see it at the party, the way you carried yourself, the way you selected the people to talk to." She broke his gaze, looking down at the grass. The wind blew her hair across her face. "What do you know about me?"

"About you? Almost nothing." He resisted the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Only what you've told me."

She looked up again, her expression suddenly guarded. "How did you know I'd be at the park?"

"Haruhi lives near there. She saw you once or twice on her way to buy groceries."

A spark lit up her eyes, causing his heart to pick up speed. "She isn't wealthy?"

Kyoya shook his head slowly. "She is here on scholarship for her outstanding academics."

Kyoya watched her nod, look at the ground, shift her feet. "I'm sorry. I think I should leave," she said quietly. She turned away without meeting his eyes.

He reached out and took her hand, a desperation almost overwhelming him. Where their skin touched was electrifying. She stopped, but did not turn back. Kyoya forced himself to focus.

"Melanie, please stay," he said.

"Why?"

"Because…I…"

She turned her eyes on him, and her gaze drove through him like a sharp winter wind. He swallowed, resisting the urge to shiver under those eyes. His hand squeezed hers, and to his surprise, she squeezed back.

"I want to know you," he said. "I'm sorry about the money. I didn't realize. Don't go."

She blew out a breath and pulled away from him. He pocketed his hands and watched her eyes wander over to the clock tower. A faint smile ghosted across her lips.

"I'm too embarrassed to face them," she said.

"They like you already. I'm sure they will understand." He chuckled. "I'm actually surprised by how well you handled them. Not even Haruhi was so calm upon our first encounter. Though those circumstances were much different, I suppose."

"Earlier…" She bit her lip before meeting his gaze again. "Earlier, why did you become so cold after I told you I was thinking of Souh-sama?"

Kyoya felt himself straighten instinctively. What a strange question—and the sudden topic shift made him nervous. Her eyes were serious: his answer obviously meant something to her. Had she seen his jealously? "Tamaki is well liked by everyone," he said carefully. "But at the party, you treated him kindly and politely."

"I know my place." Her eyes flashed again.

"No! No, that's not what I meant." Kyoya drew in a sharp breath. "I just mean that you didn't…fall for him. You saw him for who he truly was, and you weren't—but, when you seemed so excited to see him—"

Melanie started to laugh, causing Kyoya to cringe. He knew his face was turning red, but this girl left him no choice but to be honest with her. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I like you like this, Kyoya," Melanie said. "This is the you I thought I saw when you asked to buy the chandelier piece."

Kyoya looked at her, his hand dropping from his neck. She was still smiling, and her eyes were kind and serious. She was not teasing him.

"Anyway, I will return to the club." She nodded, her chin lifting slightly. "Please, lead the way."

…

"I apologize sincerely for my rudeness!" Melanie bowed deeply in front of the group. "There was a miscommunication. Please allow me to explain."

She looked up into Souh-sama's eyes. He nodded kindly. Melanie straightened and clasped her hands.

"My parents were killed in a car crash last winter. I was permitted to stay with a friend and finish out the school year. Then I was brought here by my one remaining relative and her husband—Hashimoto-sama." Melanie tried to ignore the sadness she saw in Souh-sama's and Hauhi-senpai's eyes. She forged ahead: "When I first met Kyoya, I thought he was cold, demeaning, and manipulative."

The twins and Souh-sama burst out laughing. Even Haruhi smiled. Kyoya adjusted his glasses, but kept his expression neutral. Melanie grinned at him.

"I thought I'd never see him again. My uncle was pressured to introduce me into Japan's society, but I knew he had no intention of allowing me to enter into it. So I was fairly rude to Kyoya.

"The next time I saw him, I was surprised. I'd been wandering around the city, looking for something new to paint. I found this wonderful clock tower, but knew I was on some sort of private property. I hadn't realized it was a school." Melanie's eyes drifted towards the window behind the group, where the clock tower stood in plain view. "He was only a little rude. He was interested in my work. I was flattered.

"The third time, he found me at the park. He was funny and kind. He asked me to come here and I said yes. But today he was different—colder. I thought, maybe this was a mistake." She couldn't stop herself from sighing.

The room stayed quiet, and Melanie knew she had to continue. She turned her gaze on the group and gave them a reassuring smile.

"You see, I live in a small apartment on my own. I am given 11,823 yen a week from the Hashimoto family, and have minimal contact with them. At this point, if I don't find some way to make money, I will most likely be out on the street. When I saw the price, I thought perhaps Kyoya had done some digging into my family, and was playing some sort of joke."

"Kyoya-senpai wouldn't do that."

Everyone turned to see Haruhi staring directly at Melanie.

"No one here would do that," she continued, her voice strong.

Melanie nodded. "It is hard to trust others when you have been alone for so long."

The twins glanced at each other before one of them looked away. The other turned his eyes to Melanie, and they were kind and understanding.

"You poor, poor girl!" Souh-sama leapt from his chair and drew himself to full height.

Melanie laughed as he swept her into his arms, twirling her like he did at Kyoya's house that night.

"You're so dramatic, Souh-sama." She laughed again, extracting herself from his arms. "It could always be worse."

"Tamaki-senpai," he corrected.

"Yes, sorry." She smiled. "I'll remember from now on."

Kyoya cleared his throat, and everyone turned to look at him. "So how would you like to proceed, Tamaki?"

Tamaki-senpai folded one arm across his chest, resting his opposite elbow on it and putting his chin in his hand. He was so elegantly posed that it bordered on absurd. "How do we resolve this issue about money?"

Melanie felt her eyebrows shoot up. "You still want to hire me?"

"Of course!" Tamaki-senpai's expression was almost offended.

Melanie turned back to see Honey-senpai and Haruhi-senpai nod, and the twins shrug in unison.

"We follow our king," the twins said.

"Well," Melanie said slowly. "How about I do the paintings, and then we can decide on a price afterwards?"

Kyoya nodded and picked up Melanie's portfolio. The group gathered behind him to watch as he flipped through the pages. Melanie laughed quietly and took a seat opposite them, smiling as Kyoya glanced up at her.

…

Melanie sat near the windows with her sketch book, trying and failing not to be noticed.

"Who is that girl?"

Melanie gritted her teeth. This had been a terrible idea. The host club clients were not quiet in the least, and they were very, very jealous.

A teacup and saucer appeared in front of her. She looked up into kind, dark eyes, giving them a small smile.

"Thank you, Mori-senpai," she said. "I don't think I should have listened to Tamaki-senpai when he insisted I sketch the club in action."

"Yeah," he said. The corners of his mouth twitched.

"I suppose they love you because you're the silent-brooding type, eh?"

He shrugged a little and looked over at Honey-senpai, who was stuffing cake into his mouth.

"You'd better get back out there," Melanie said, nodding towards Mori-senpai's staring guests.

He nodded and looked at her a moment before walking away. She balanced the sketch pad on her knee before picking up the teacup. Her stomach was in knots, but the hot coffee helped calm her nerves.

She glanced over at Kyoya, who was currently entertaining a table of girls himself. They chatted and asked him questions, which he responded to in his politely detached way. She shook her head.

Most of these members were putting on some sort of show. She had seen the sharp intelligence in Honey-senpai's eyes that went against his childlike demeanor. Tamaki-senpai fawned over these girls, yet his eyes kept returning faithfully to Haruhi-senpai, who, it turned out, was herself pretending to be male. The twincest act was perturbing at first, but ended up being amusing.

With the exception of Mori-senpai, Kyoya was the only one she wasn't completely sure was acting. She could no longer tell whether the man from the park was really him, or who she wanted him to be. This was dangerous, she knew, but it wasn't like anything would come from her attraction to him. His stilted speech on the lawn was not a confession, after all. They didn't even know each other.

But as he looked up directly into her eyes, she felt like she had known him a lifetime.

She blew out a breath and looked outside. Without really thinking, her hand flipped the page from her sketches of the group—more doodles than anything—to one of the clock tower. She started adding some shading, trying to calm her nerves. Seeing these girls made her realize how out of place she was. Even if Haruhi-senpai was not rich, she had earned her way here. And who was Melanie? Just an American who had ended up here on accident.

"It's lovely."

She startled and blinked up into Tamaki-senpai's face. He was smiling softly at her, his demeanor much calmer than usual. She blinked again and looked around—the room was nearly empty, with just a few girls remaining. She'd been focused for a long time.

"I'm sorry, Tamaki-senpai. I know I'm supposed to be working." She flipped back to the weak outlines of the group.

"Is something troubling you?"

Her eyes followed him as he sat on the window sill next to her. "I don't feel like I'm getting to know any of you at all."

"Nothing escapes you, Mel-san." He chuckled, pushing hair out of his face. He turned his gaze to the clock tower pensively.

Again, Melanie saw the meadow of flowers, the smoke in the background. He hadn't changed at all from the night they'd first met. Instinctively she began to trace the curve of his nose, the light across his cheeks. Her hand followed dutifully on the page. After only a few moments, Tamaki-senpai glanced down. His face lit up.

"Mel-san, that's amazing!"

She broke from her reverie, looking down. "It's alright."

Tamaki-senpai grabbed the book from her, holding it up triumphantly. "Mel-san drew me!"

The other members began to wander over, and Melanie felt her face start to burn. "It's just a rough sketch, it's not even—"

"Wow, senpai. It looks just like you," Haruhi-senpai said.

"Kyoya, look!"

Tamaki-senpai brandished the book dramatically, which, to Melanie's horror, caused a small rectangular paper to fall out. Everyone watched as it fluttered to the ground, landing face down at Kyoya's feet. Melanie threw her hands out as Kyoya bent down.

"Don't!"

Everyone looked at her in surprise. Her face was really burning now, but she ignored it as she rushed over and crouched down.

"It's a soft charcoal drawing," she explained. She gently gripped two opposite corners and lifted it. "They smudge really easily."

Tamaki-senpai brought the sketchbook over, holding it out to her. "I'm so sorry, Mel-san."

She smiled at him, carefully flipping the drawing over and setting it gently on the book's pages. "It's okay, Tamaki-senpai, really. The drawing's fine—see?"

Everyone crowded around to see the piece. It was of a grand piano, gleaming in the light of an unknown source, set against thick velvet curtains and a wooden floor. The entire picture was in black and white, but looked real enough to step into.

"Beautiful."

Melanie smiled up at Mori-senpai. "Thank you. I spent a lot of time on this one."

"Do you play?" Tamaki-senpai asked.

Melanie shook her head, taking the sketchbook from him. "My father did. He was where I got my love of classical music from. This was going to be my Christmas gift to him." She looked up instantly, realizing how depressing that must have sounded. She closed the book and placed it on a nearby table. "Anyway, that sketch of you is child's play! I can—and will—do much better for you, okay?"

"Tamaki."

Melanie looked over at Kyoya, who was putting his hands in his pockets. She glanced at Tamaki, who smiled. Something seemed to silently pass between the two men. Tamaki-senpai sauntered over to a piano in the back of the room, taking a seat and lifting the lid.

"Was that piano always there?" Melanie blinked.

"This is the music room, after all," the twins said.

Melanie stared at them. "This is a music room?!"

"Just go with it," Haruhi-senpai said. "That's what I do."

Then Tamaki-senpai began to play.

Melanie's hand flew to her throat, and after a moment, she reminded herself to breathe. The song was familiar, but she couldn't even begin to place it. It was sad and hopeful and nostalgic all at once. She no longer saw the meadow—she was in it, and so was Tamaki, and she could smell the smoke in the distance, but the music was keeping everything at bay. And the wind was so, so warm. Light radiated from him, and the flowers danced in time with the look in his eyes.

The song drifted slowly to a close, and a wonderful stillness fell over everyone in the room. Melanie's breath rushed out of her audibly, breaking the spell. She was suddenly back in herself, and realized that her face was wet.

"How embarrassing!" She laughed, slapping her hands over her cheeks.

"Are you okay, Mel-chan?" Honey-senpai asked.

She laughed again, nodding. "I'm not sad, I promise. I'm just a mushball."

"Mushball?"

Melanie wiped her face roughly and turned to Kyoya. "I cry a lot, about anything, really. I think I got it from my mom. My dad said the Coin women live with our hearts too close to the world."

Kyoya's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but Melanie turned away, embarrassed again. "That was wonderful, Tamaki-senpai!"

"I know," he said. He brushed his golden hair off his forehead, smiling somewhat modestly. "It's a burden to be so talented."

"We know what will cheer you up, Mel-chan!" The twins shoved Tamaki-senpai aside, identical hats on their heads. They linked arms and shouted, "The Which-One-is-Hikaru-Game!"

"That's a silly game." Melanie laughed and pointed to the twin on the left. "That's Hikaru."

The twins looked at each other slowly. Hikaru-senpai shrugged. "Beginners luck."

"It was not!" Melanie said indignantly.

"Then what's your reasoning?" Kaoru-senpai challenged.

"Well, for one your voices are different." She shook her head. "Your eyes are, too."

"They are not," the twins argued.

"Yes, they are," Melanie said firmly. She turned and pointed to Tamaki-senpai dramatically, settling her other hand on her hip. "One down, six to go!"

"So, you have an idea on how to proceed?" Tamaki-senpai bounced over to her.

Melanie tried not to notice Kyoya staring at her, or the twins slinking away, looking at her suspiciously. She nodded at Tamaki. "I do. But it won't happen today."


	6. Following an Impulse

Kyoya flipped open his phone as it buzzed.

"I'm running late—the key is under the flowerpot. Just let yourself in and I'll be there soon," he read.

Kyoya adjusted his glasses. There wasn't anyone around, but he still felt strange entering Melanie's apartment for the first time without her. He hadn't expected to be here long—she'd just wanted to show him the sketches of the group before she started painting.

It had also been about a week since he'd seen her last—she'd slowly been getting the material she needed by watching the club members interact before and after club activities. She'd politely declined attending club hours, to Kyoya's embarrassment. Did it really bother her that much?

After another minute of standing outside, he crouched, tipped the flowerpot over, and unlocked the door. Inside, he took off his shoes and entered the room.

And it was really just one room, with an offshoot for the toilet and shower. In the center of the room was a low table, in the right hand corner was a mattress on the floor, and in the left corner was a stack of unused canvases, the folded up easel, and another pile of finished paintings. A singular window lit the room, and under the window stood a small bookshelf. At the foot of the bed was a low rectangular trunk with the word 'clothes' scrawled across it.

Considering the occupant, he thought that her house would be…messier. And bigger. He never imagined that she was living in a place so small. He could fit her entire home into his bedroom.

Kyoya sat on the floor next to the table, taking another look around. There were some plants, and various knick-nacks. Kyoya looked them over, beginning to feel more comfortable. The books on the top row were mostly American novels, none of which he'd heard of. She also had one collection of Murakami's, as well as a few mangas.

It was the bottom row that caught his interest. The sketchbook she'd been working out of was there, but so were many others that looked identical. Kyoya leaned over and pulled one out: the cover was black except for a piece of tape, across which was scrawled 'A Study of Birds.'

He pulled the cover open, and flipped through an entire notebook filled of sketches of birds—some pages just had parts, like different legs and feet, open and closed beaks and bills, and feather shapes and lengths. Others were just of a singular bird, while others were of flocks. He flipped through every page.

Curious, Kyoya replaced the book and removed the next one. "A Study of Glass and Metal," he read aloud. Inside were drawings of everything from sweating water glasses to the inner workings of clocks. Again, he lost himself looking over the images.

The third book was a study of emotions. There were a lot of different people in this one, and while at first the book revealed only facial expressions, it gradually branched out to include body language. Towards the end it became less about happy emotions and branched into something darker. There were a lot of sketches of one girl in particular, who ranged from being very angry to sobbing.

The door swung open suddenly. "I'm home! Sorry I'm late," Melanie said.

Kyoya jumped, which made her laugh. He wondered wildly whether it was her sudden appearance that made his heart thud so hard, or the way she tossed her head back when that carefree sound lifted itself from her throat. She closed the door, kicked off her shoes, and moved across the room to him.

"Which one are you looking at?" she asked.

"Er, emotions." Kyoya felt his face heat up, but she didn't seem to mind his intrusion.

"Ah," she said. She stood next to him and leaned over to see the book.

Kyoya tried to ignore that her hair dripped down to brush his shoulder, and that she was close enough to feel her warmth. "Who is this girl?"

"My friend. Jenna." She reached down and turned the page. It was a full page piece of Jenna sitting in a darkened corner, a bottle of mostly-empty American whiskey in one hand, and the other hand fisted to her face. She looked like she was in agony. "This is the best one, probably."

"What happened?" Kyoya asked quietly. The detail in the drawing was incredible.

"She had a sister who died suddenly." Melanie sighed and stood up. She stepped towards the kitchen as she removed her coat. "They were twins. Identical, actually."

Kyoya's neck almost snapped as he looked up. "What?"

Melanie nodded without looking at him. She tossed her coat on the bed, opened a cupboard, and began to remove things. "We grew up together. They considered me a sister, too, which was nice because I was an only child. A few years ago, Emily started complaining about pain in her leg, so they took her to the doctor. It seemed like no big deal, really. But it was cancer—terminal. They gave her three months to live. A week later, she said she was tired and laid down for a while."

Melanie shut the cabinet door and lowered her head. Kyoya felt his heart constrict as he watched her lean forward into the counter.

"She never woke up. She was here and then…she wasn't, I guess."

Kyoya closed the book and placed his hands in his lap. What could he say? He was so useless. How could one person experience so much tragedy and be as kind and happy and surprising as this girl? He found himself rising to his feet and crossing the room.

"I think that's why I have a hard time drawing Kaoru-senpai and Hikaru-senpai. Every time they speak in unison, or tease Tamaki-senpai, it just brings back a lot. It's remarkable how similar they are to the girls. Their world is so, so small. I love them for it. And I guess in spite of it, too."

Kyoya came to a stop behind Melanie, but she didn't turn around. He wanted to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her hair, but he knew he couldn't do that. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. She was warm to the touch, and this close, he realized she smelled like vanilla. Her hand came up and rested on his. His heart went crazy as she squeezed his fingers gently. It was growing more and more obvious the longer he knew her—she could affect him like no other.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he answered. His voice sounded strange, though it might be because it seemed so distant to him. Everything he was made of was focused on this moment: her small, freckled hand on his.

She pulled away and began to get the tea ready. Kyoya reluctantly retreated back to the table.

He cleared his throat. "Where were you earlier?"

"I was at work," she said. Her tone wasn't exactly sad, but it also didn't sound like she was here with him.

"You're working?"

She nodded before pulling her hair back in a ponytail. "I got a job down at the grocery store. It's not very much money, but it will help cover the bills for this place."

Kyoya's first instinct was to offer his assistance. It wasn't like he was lacking money. But then his survival instinct kicked in. From what he knew of this strange American, she was proud. She might punch him, or worse—never speak to him again.

"It's a good job. The people are friendly," she continued. "And sometimes I even see Haruhi-senpai." She turned and took the few steps to the table with coffee mugs in hand.

"That's great," he said, trying not to let it bother him that she'd never mentioned this to him before. He took the mug from her, chuckling as he did so.

"What?" she asked.

"This mug is the Cheshire cat," he said. It was gaudy and strange, but it definitely made sense for her.

"Hey! I collect mugs, you know." She held hers up so he could see it was a mishmash of Van Gough paintings. "I have a ton of them in that cabinet."

Kyoya filed that away for later. "Do you want to show me the sketches now?"

"Would you mind if we just sit here for a minute?" When she turned her eyes on him, they seemed tired.

Kyoya nodded, his hands more firmly gripping the mug. "Of course."

Melanie looked away and took a sip. She closed her eyes briefly before they shot open again. "I have a math test tomorrow!"

Kyoya raised an eyebrow. "Math?"

"Yes, I do my schooling online." She groaned before banging her mug down on the table.

He watched her curiously. She must have forgotten that she'd told him that before, the night they'd first met.

She lay back on the floor, spreading her arms out beside her. "I totally blanked. I'll have to accept the fail. Damn."

"I could help you study," Kyoya said. Did she know how adorable she was in this moment?

Melanie propped herself up on her elbows. "What?"

"I could help you study," he repeated. "I'm quite skilled in this subject."

An hour later, Melanie squealed and clapped her hands. "Another one right!"

"You're not bad at this," Kyoya said, evoking a laugh from her.

"I'm not good at it either," she said. She chewed on the end of her pencil, tilting her head. She'd taken her hair down again, and it fell across her face. "I think I should be able to pass, though, thanks to you."

Melanie had turned on some small floor lamps when the light from the window dimmed, changing the room drastically. It felt more intimate now, something Kyoya was struggling with. He was both relaxed with Melanie, as well as tense. His attraction to her was increasing by the minute.

"Have more confidence," he said. She looked too cute like that. He took the pencil from her and turned back to the book. He cleared his throat, attempting to refocus. "I think where you're struggling is in remembering the formulas. It's just memorization, and if you can remember the names of every influential painter who's ever lived, you can do this—"

Melanie reached over and pulled Kyoya's glasses from his face. Surprised, he dropped the pencil and grabbed her wrist. They locked eyes, and Melanie's seemed oddly startled. They sat in silence for a moment, Kyoya looking into the cool blue, unfiltered for the first time. It felt like the air had been sucked from the room. His hand tightened on her wrist instinctively, and he could feel her pulse pounding under her skin.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she stuttered. Her cheeks began to slowly turn pink. "I was just wondering what your eyes would look like without your glasses, and…"

Kyoya lifted his other hand and brushed his fingers against the freckles on her cheek. Melanie's eyes widened, and Kyoya inhaled sharply. "While we're doing things impulsively," he said.

"Kyoya."

He fanned his fingers out, pushing back into her hair, cupping her face. His blood raced, encouraged by the way she was looking at him.

"We shouldn't," she whispered.

He barely registered her words, too focused on the way her lips formed them. He'd noticed before that her top lip was slightly fuller than the bottom, but it had never seemed to matter much to him until right now—he had to tear his eyes away from them. "What do you see when you look in my eyes?"

Again, he'd managed to surprise her. Her voice was breathy. "What?"

"You had the moment, with Tamaki. You saw who he was in an image—the meadow." He rubbed his thumb over her skin, causing her to close her eyes, which only made his question seem more important. "Melanie, what do you see when you look at me?"

She shook her head very slightly. "You'll see. In my work."

Frustrated, he opened his mouth to object. But her eyes opened again.

"What do you see when you look in mine?" she asked.

He sucked in a breath. How to explain it? Like breathing in the purest air, or feeling the first warm rays of summer on your bare skin. She was every dancing spark cast against the night sky from campfire, the unexplainable pull of a favorite song from long ago.

He could feel himself closing the distance between them, noted the darkening of her eyes, the slight parting of her mouth—

His phone cut through the silence, shrill as a scream. Melanie jumped back, pulling out of his grasp. Kyoya yanked the phone out of his pocket and answered without checking the number.

"What?" It was almost a snarl.

"You don't have to be so mean," Fuyumi whined.

Kyoya sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "What do you want, sister?"

"Are you coming home for dinner? I'm getting worried."

"Yes, I'll be home."

"When?"

He looked over at Melanie, who looked back at him. His heart fell into his stomach at her expression. It was guarded, almost angry.

"Soon." He hung up the phone.

"I didn't know you had a sister," she said, her voice flat.

"I—"

She laid his glasses on the table, picked up the mugs, and walked them to the sink. "I think you should go home."

Kyoya stood, grabbing his glasses. Panic started to set in. What just happened? "Melanie, I—"

"I need to get ready for bed. I want to get up early and study," she said.

He took a step closer, unsure of what he should do. He couldn't have possibly read that situation wrong. It was there, in her eyes. She had wanted what he—

"Kyoya, please."

It was the desperation in her voice that turned off his thought process. He could almost feel his brain powering down as he put his glasses back on. They made his world much more stable. He headed to the door and put on his shoes.

"Let me know how the exam goes," he said.

She nodded, but turned away from him. He watched her cross the room and shut herself in the bathroom. He left without another word.


	7. The Honesty Game

The days passed slowly, agonizingly. After the second day, Melanie chewed on her thumb as Kyoya's name flashed on her caller I.D. She was deciding whether or not to answer when it rang through to voicemail. He texted a few times in the days after. She didn't reply in any way, which she knew was unfair. But she couldn't trust him to maintain the distance between them anymore. And she knew she couldn't trust herself, either.

She sighed as she placed cans on the shelf. She only had a little more time before her shift was over. Exhaustion was starting to kick in. Her routine was simple: work all day, go home, eat, do her school work, and paint. Maybe sleep for a few hours. The portraits were coming along nicely, along with a small side project she'd started in her sketchbook.

But the workload was beginning to catch up with her. Currently crouched in front of the canned fruit, balancing on the balls of her feet, she linked her fingers behind her neck and pulled her head down gently. She closed her eyes, allowed herself a moment of peace. The muscles in her neck strained, but her shoulders were beginning to relax.

"Mel?"

Melanie startled and blinked up into a wide pair of light brown eyes. She sat up straighter, her hands slipping to rest on her knees. "Hello, Haruhi."

Haruhi adjusted the basket over her arm, a look of slight concern on her face. "Are you alright?" She was still in her school uniform.

Melanie nodded and stood. "Just a long day. How are you?"

"I'm well." Haruhi looked around. "I usually don't see you here on Wednesdays."

"I picked up some extra shifts," Melanie said. "Just trying to stay ahead, you know."

Haruhi nodded. "I suppose that's why you haven't been back to the club."

"Yes, it's…hard to find the time these days." Melanie tried to smile, but Haruhi's gaze was clear and direct. She knew she couldn't fool this girl.

"Did something happen between you and Kyoya-senpai?" Haruhi asked.

And there it was. Melanie sighed before hunching back down. "Perhaps you should ask him." She put a few cans in their place.

"I did."

Melanie paused for a moment before continuing her work. "Then why ask me?"

"Because Kyoya-senpai said that something did happen. He just wasn't sure what."

She couldn't look into Haruhi's eyes as the other woman crouched down next to her, setting her basket on the floor. Instead, Melanie cradled a can between her hands and tried to keep her heart from pounding. "How is he?"

"More irritable than usual. Distracted."

Melanie furrowed her brow. It really didn't sound like him. She wouldn't have expected him to react that way after a fight that wasn't really a fight. "That's…curious."

"Has he said anything to you about it?" Haruhi took the can from Melanie's hands and placed it in her basket.

"I've been ignoring his calls."

"Why?"

"Because…" Melanie could feel her head dipping lower. "Because I think he needs some perspective."

"On?" Haruhi's tone was gentle.

This didn't feel like an interrogation, more like…more like Haruhi was actually concerned about her. It made Melanie feel brave, like she had someone she could confide in. After thinking for a moment, she couldn't believe Haruhi would be the type to gossip to Kyoya about her.

"We don't know each other." Melanie forced herself to look in Haruhi's eyes. "Even if we did, I have absolutely nothing to offer him."

"I have known Kyoya for a while now. I have seen him do honorable things, though always under the guise of manipulation. But with you..." Haruhi's head tilted slightly. "It just seems like you bring something new out of him."

"See, but the thing is I never know which side of him is the real one. Sometimes he's cold and distant, other times polite and distant, and then sometimes—" Melanie looked away. She didn't want to remember the desire and vulnerability in Kyoya's stormy eyes, the way he'd gripped her wrist so fiercely with one hand while the other was so tender against her face. She started stocking the shelves dutifully, if a bit forcefully. "Besides, this entire…thing is standing on shaky legs anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you really think the Ootori family would let their smartest and most driven son waste his time on a distant relative of the Hashimoto family, when she has no claim on the Hashimoto's power or fortune and spends her time selling produce in a part of town most of them have never even been?"

Melanie could taste the bitterness of those words as they left her mouth. She was actually surprised she'd said them in the first place—it was something that slithered through her mind occasionally, especially after Kyoya had proven he was willing to act on an attraction. Because that's all it really was, right?

"I think that who you are matters more than where you're from," Haruhi said slowly. "And I think all of us in the club feel that way."

"Some of us can't afford to think like that," Melanie said. Though she couldn't deny the fluttering in her heart at the thought of Kyoya being able to stand proudly beside her.

The two women sat in silence for a long while, until Melanie ran out of cans and stood up. "I appreciate your advice, Haruhi. I just don't think it's possible for me to reconcile these feelings."

Haruhi stood with her. "Would you like to come and have dinner with me and my father?"

Melanie blinked, surprised. She found herself nodding before she could even form a coherent thought. Since she'd come to this country, she had never shared a meal with another person, let alone at their house with their family. Melanie glanced at the clock above the grocery's door.

"My shift is over in a few minutes. Would you mind waiting?"

Haruhi smiled. "Not at all."

…

Melanie walked herself home, feeling uncharacteristically light. Dinner with Haruhi and her father had been beyond wonderful. Ranka was a character, that was for sure, but genuinely sweet and accommodating. She found herself humming while she reflected on her full stomach and bursting heart. Her hum turned into flow blown singing as she took the stairs to her apartment.

She made her way away from the light of the streetlamp and further down the walkway. Her landlord still hadn't fixed the light outside her place. She resolved to complain to him again. He's a nice man: just a little scattered, she thought as she pulled out her keys.

"You have a lovely voice."

Melanie shrieked and jumped back, her hand flying to her chest. Someone stepped towards her out of the darkness, which only caused her to take a few more panicked steps back.

"Sorry! I'm sorry—it's me."

Recognizing the voice, Melanie tried to stop her heart from galloping so wildly in her chest. Kyoya's chagrined expression caught the light as he took a few steps closer.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I must have fallen asleep, but your singing woke me—"

"You scared the shit out of me!"

Melanie doubled over, laughter exploding from her throat. She laughed long and hard, until tears streamed down her cheeks and she felt like she could no longer breathe. When she stood back up, Kyoya was also laughing, his face more relaxed. Her heart sped up again—she reminded herself that she had to ignore how handsome he was.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "You really should get that light fixed."

Melanie leaned against the banister, wiping her face. "I know. How long have you been here?"

Kyoya suddenly seemed embarrassed. "Well, I guess…a while."

"I see," she said. She didn't try to hide her grin. "I was at Haruhi's house for dinner."

He stared at her a moment. "I see."

"Is there something you…wanted?" Melanie felt her smile slip a little. Now that the shock was starting to wear off, she realized she should feel more awkward than excited to see Kyoya waiting for her here.

"I thought we could talk," he said. His voice was low and resolved.

Melanie nodded, her eyes darting to her apartment door and back. "Let's, er, let's go to the park."

Something like sadness flickered across Kyoya's face before his expression blanked. "Of course," he said stiffly.

He moved past Melanie, who instinctually reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his coat. He stopped immediately, and she let go like he'd shocked her. Distance, she reminded herself.

"It's not that I don't want you to come in, it's just, well, I never let anyone see a work in progress."

He turned to her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"The portraits?" she finished weakly.

He seemed relieved. He nodded and let her move past him, leading the way. At the bottom of the stairs, he came to walk beside her. They spent a few minutes in awkward silence, which gradually thawed into something comfortable. Almost familiar even.

"How's school?" she asked him.

"Fine. Not too difficult." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hosting is going well. I think we will be able to sell prints of the portraits to the guests for a great price, which will help for the next outing Tamaki wants to do when the weather's nicer." He shook his head.

"Outing?"

Kyoya nodded, his glasses flashing in the light of a streetlamp. "My family has a beach in Okinawa that we went to last year. It was a bit of a mess, but I think it would be fine to go again. The guests enjoyed it, anyway."

Melanie's brain had trouble getting past 'my family has a beach'. She realized she'd been quiet too long, and turned a smile on his unfathomable expression. "That sounds nice," she said. "I'm sure your guests will love it."

Kyoya nodded and turned his face away. Melanie puffed out a breath in relief.

"Do you really hate the club?" he asked quietly after a moment.

"No!" Melanie laughed. She tried to catch his eye, but he stared dutifully ahead. "Why would you ask that?"

"You don't seem to enjoy being there, or talking about it."

She gave up searching his flat expression. "It's just so different. I don't mean to make you feel like I don't want you to talk about it. It just takes me a moment to process. And I'll be honest: I really don't like being there."

"May I ask why?"

"I don't like to see you guys acting like people you aren't."

There was a long pause, which gave Melanie enough time to feel extremely self-conscious. Who was she to presume she knew Kyoya or his friends any more than those girls? Just because she didn't drool over them?

The sudden, prickly feeling that Kyoya was about to say something overcame her. She decided to change the subject quickly before she embarrassed herself any more.

"My exam went well!" Melanie grinned, swinging her arms a little more enthusiastically. "I got a B+ thanks to you!"

"I'm glad," Kyoya said, though he didn't sound glad at all. He must really have been about to say something. "And work?"

Melanie rubbed a hand over her eyes, instantly deflated. "I don't want to talk about work," she said. She and Kyoya glanced at each other before looking away. Melanie felt her cheeks warm. "I'm just there a lot. I'm paid well, so I don't have a right to complain."

They were quiet for a moment. The park's entrance appeared, and Melanie's steps quickened.

"If you could complain," Kyoya asked slowly. "What would your main complaint be?"

She laughed. "That's easy—it's not painting."

She took off running, slowing only when she got near the swings. She sat down heavily in one and dug her heels into the ground, rocking herself backward and forward slowly as Kyoya walked the rest of the way to her.

He lowered himself in the seat next to her. She could feel his eyes on her, but suddenly felt shy. She was pretty sure she knew what he wanted to talk about, but her stomach flipped at the thought of actually having to talk.

"You're nervous," he said quietly.

"You're hard to talk to sometimes." She laughed, her breath creating a small cloud in the chilling air. "Most of the time, really."

He didn't respond, but in her peripherals she noticed him reach up and grasp the metal chains. She couldn't see his face, but she began to feel guilty the longer he didn't respond.

"Let's make a ground rule," she said.

She brought her swing to a stop and leaned back to look at him. He turned his face to look at her. It was too dark to see his eyes, which meant she had no hints at all as to how he might be feeling.

"We will each promise to be as honest and understanding as possible," she continued, even as her stomach turned over again. "And answer any question the other has. Okay?"

He nodded but didn't say anything.

"Do you promise?" she prompted.

He nodded again. "Yes, I promise."

"Well, I promise, too." She turned back and started swinging gently again, wondering if this would end up being a mistake. Worst case scenario, she'd frighten him off and then she wouldn't have to worry about lines and crossing them anymore. "You should start with whatever you wanted to talk about."

She didn't look at him, but she heard him shift slightly on the swing and clear his throat. He was quiet for another handful of moments, giving her space to grow even more nervous, before he cleared his throat a second time.

"What happened the last time I was at your house?"

"You were there, Kyoya. You don't need me to tell you," she said dryly.

"I do need you to explain," he said evenly. "Because, was it…did I—"

"Almost kiss me? Yes, you did." She kept rocking back and forth on her feet, extending her knees and bending them again.

"And…and how did you feel? About that?"

She chewed on her lip, considering how she should answer. "How do you think I felt?"

"We promised to answer each other's questions. Honestly."

His voice had darkened. She stopped her swing and looked towards him guiltily. "I know, and I will, I just…I want to hear it from you, first."

He sighed. "In the moment, I felt like you wanted me to." He looked towards her and away again. She cursed the fact that she couldn't see his eyes. "And then you were so angry. And didn't answer any of my calls."

She leaned her face against the cold chain, trying to slow her pulse. She spoke softly: "I wanted you to."

He sucked in a breath, something that sent a hot shiver down her spine. He so rarely actually reacted. "Then why?"

She nodded and looked away. "To protect us."

He took his hands off the chains and leaned forward. She kept her eyes straight ahead as she felt him study her. She heated under his gaze.

"From?" he asked.

"The—" She choked on the word heartbreak. "Er…"

"Honesty. We promised."

"What a stupid rule. Who came up with that?" she muttered.

She drew a steady breath in, let it out slowly. Turned her eyes to the sky and traced the space between the stars. It was cheating, but she knew him well enough to know she could evade the current subject with another.

"The way I see it, there are only two outcomes. Number one—the most likely—is that we continue this…this thing and you will get bored and find someone more...suitable." She halted, feeling herself falling into a well of emotion she'd been actively trying to avoid for weeks. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Why did thinking about this hurt so much?

"And the second outcome?" he asked quietly.

She sighed, beginning to rock herself again. She decided to tell him roughly what she'd told Haruhi earlier that day: "That the Ootori family would not allow a son of theirs to waste his time with a girl like me."

The chains of his swing creaked again and Melanie willed herself to calm down. Talking about this, with him—it was taking her to a mushy place. She didn't want him to see her cry again, especially over another silly thing.

"Why is the second outcome the least likely?"

She laughed, and it sounded as hard as frozen ground. "Because that would mean that you would have to be invested in me enough to risk your future."

He was quiet, which made her feel nauseous. She tried to think of something difficult to ask him, to flip this conversation on its head, but the only thing she could think was that she was just barely treading water here.

"Why aren't these outcomes based upon your…investment in me?"

This made her smile. She closed her eyes and turned her face to the sky. "Can't you tell by now? I've been drawn to you since you walked out on that balcony, skin lighted by moonlight, eyes so silvery and deep and…and…" She laughed. Hell, she might as well just go for it. "And maybe it was even before that, even though you were rude and made me angry. All I know is that I went home painted you."

When Kyoya didn't answer, Melanie stood suddenly and linked her fingers, putting her arms over her head as far as they would go. As long as she kept moving, she didn't have to think about what Kyoya might be thinking about. She took a bunch of steps away from him before turning back and dropping her arms.

Instead of giving her more control, the movement was making it easier for the words to bubble up her throat. "If you want my honesty, you can have it—I never know which Kyoya you're going to be. I never know how to act around you."

He stood and slowly made his way towards her, which only forced her to speak faster.

"You're so cold one minute, and so, so warm the next, and I can't participate in a dance if I don't know the steps."

His lips twitched, and he took one of her hands in his, pulling her closer. He settled the other hand on her waist, and without thinking, she placed her free hand lightly on his arm. She had one wild thought about distance before more words were crowding her mouth.

"I know how stupid this all is—we could never be together anyway, even if you wanted to. Because of who I am, and—"

"Who are you?" he asked.

She let out a breath, trying to see his eyes behind his glasses in the dark. They were a formidable opponent. Her heart thumped unevenly in her throat as he took a step back, pulling her gently along.

"I'm nobody," she whispered.

She stumbled slightly in the grass as Kyoya continued to lead her. There was no music, but he stepped easily. His hand was warm in hers and for a moment, she thought she saw that warmth in his eyes, too.

"You're somebody to me," he answered just as quietly.

And, God help her, that was all she needed to hear. They continued to dance in silence for a little while, and the more she relaxed in his hands, the more sure her steps became. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the movement.

Her skin was fire where their hands touched, where she felt his bicep flex through his jacket. She opened her eyes again and couldn't help but trace the sharp angles of his jaw, his nose, juxtaposed with the soft roundness of his lips. They must have danced for some time, but it felt too soon when Kyoya twirled her slowly, her sneakers turning easily on the grass.

As she came to a stop in front of him, he brought his hands up and cupped her face. She forced herself not to sigh as her eyes met his. He was so close now that she had no trouble seeing the darkness of his eyes in the weak moonlight. She brought her hands up to rest on his chest.

"I have never wanted anything more than I want to kiss you right now." His voice was almost a growl.

Icy heat shot down her spine, pushed redness in her cheeks. Her eyes darted to his lips and back to his eyes, which widened and darkened.

"But," he said. His voice cracked, which made her smile a little. He cleared his throat, and when he continued, his tone more controlled: "Instead, I will ask you to accompany me to the symphony this Saturday evening. As my date."

"Yes. Of course I will." She nodded slightly.

She was sugar in water—she dissolved in the warmth of his smile.


	8. In Which Kyoya Says Something Stupid

Kyoya approached the door, feeling slightly nervous. He hadn't spoken to Melanie since the night they played the honesty game, when she'd let him hold her face in his hands until they were both shivering in the cold. It wasn't that he didn't want to call her—but what could he say after such a world-shaking moment? Instead, he spent his time planning this evening down to the very last second. He tried to stay calm, reminding himself of this as he knocked.

"Just—" The shout was in English, and he could hear her laugh. "Just a minute!" she called again, this time in Japanese.

For the first time, he wondered what she sounded like when she spoke English. Her Japanese had always been great, although her accent was adorably thick. What was it like for her to live in a place where she almost never heard her native language?

"What are you wearing?" she called through the door.

"A suit," he answered.

"Is it a fancy one?"

"Er…" Kyoya looked down at himself. What did she consider fancy?

Without warning, the door opened and a hand appeared with a phone in it. Before he could speak, the phone's camera flashed and the hand disappeared, closing the door quickly.

He had to laugh. She was so strange.

"You look really nice!" she said. She sounded impressed.

"Thank you. It's what I wore to my father's party." He put his hands in his pockets. "Are you not dressed?" He hoped it wasn't the puffy gaudy thing she wore the night they met.

"No, I am dressed, I just…borrowed it from a friend? Well, my neighbor, actually, because she went to a fancy dinner party a while ago so she had this, and it's not really me, although the dress I wore to your party was definitely not me, and it might be the same sort of thing that's just really different, and—"

Kyoya opened his mouth to interrupt, but the door flew open, and Melanie stood in front of him, face as red as her hair.

"What do you think?"

The words died on his lips. She was stunning in a loose, light blue gown that dripped off her curves and pooled slightly at her feet. She wore white lace gloves that covered her wrists, a pearl necklace and matching pearl earrings. Her hair was pulled up in an elegant bun, with braids running through it. She had a touch of makeup on, but nothing that would distract him from the natural beauty of her wide, icy eyes.

"Oh, God. It's terrible." She groaned. "And look at you! You're perfection. I look like I'm playing dress up!"

"No, it's—er." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to gawk. "It really suits you."

She paused, her face growing redder. "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat. He had not planned on this. "Yes."

"Just a minute." She stepped back and slammed the door.

He took the time to catch his breath before she reappeared and locked the door behind her. This time, she was bundled into an elegant, black wool jacket.

"This isn't mine either," she said.

He laughed and held his elbow out to her, his heart twisting as she shyly threaded her arm through his. He smiled down at her. "Shall we?"

She beamed up at him, the blush still lingering on her face. "Let's."

…

Before the symphony was dinner. Kyoya pulled Melanie into the best French restaurant the area had to offer—he figured a Western meal was probably a safe choice. As they were seated, he pushed her chair in for her and tried not to stare again. She'd taken off her jacket at the door, exposing her slender, freckled arms.

She smiled and thanked the waiter as he handed them menus and promptly left. Kyoya tried not to be nervous as he watched her eye the food choices. They stayed quiet, and as the moments dragged on, he began to wonder why. He drew a breath to speak, but the waiter appeared again as if from air, startling Kyoya slightly. He had been too focused on Melanie to notice him approach.

"Do you know what you would like?" the man asked in Japanese. He appeared not much older than Kyoya, and his French accent was heavy through his speech.

"Oui, je vais avoir le fois gras s'il vous plaît," Kyoya answered easily.

The waiter grinned. "Bien sur, monsieur. Et pour la dame?"

"S'il vous plait." She gave the man a small, shy smile while pointing at something on the menu.

The man's ears turned a bit red as Melanie looked up at him. After a pause, he turned his eyes to the menu and nodded. "Oui."

Kyoya felt uncomfortable as the man looked at Melanie one more time before rushing off to whatever hole he'd crawled out from. Without warning, a thought popped into Kyoya's head—he should stay there.

"So, you speak French?"

He turned his eyes back to Melanie, who had turned her full attention on him. He forced himself to relax, smile a little. "I do, fluently. I can also speak Italian, English, and German."

"Busy boy." She laughed.

"Quand vous souriez mes danses cardiaques," Kyoya blurted. He could feel his own ears turning a bit red.

She blinked before smiling. "I have no idea what that means. I hope it wasn't perverse."

"It wasn't." It was his turn to laugh.

"Adhair mé do aoibh gháire annamh agus álainn."

Kyoya stared at her.

"It's Gaelic," she explained. Her eyes danced. "It's the only other language I can speak."

"You speak Gaelic? Why?"

"I read once that Ireland pays their students to learn it because it's dying. I became obsessed with the thought that languages die every day just because people have moved on. It's very depressing. So I learned it." She shrugged, her eyes wandering. "I can say a few phrases in German, and my Japanese is getting better."

"You are the most interesting person I have ever met."

Melanie's eyes snapped back to him. After a moment, she laughed. "I didn't expect to hear you speak English!" she said in Japanese.

He folded his hands, placing his elbows on the table. He hid his smile, amused. He continued in English, "Earlier, it crossed my mind that it might be strange for you to rarely speak it here."

"It's never really crossed my mind. I talk to Jenna fairly frequently," she explained, her voice soft with her language switch.

She seemed reluctant to speak English, though he loved the way it curled off her tongue. It sounded much more musical and relaxed than her accent-studded Japanese. "The other night, you were singing in English. It was beautiful. What was it called?"

"Oh, it's, ah, If the Moon Turns Green." She seemed embarrassed. She shifted in her chair and placed her folded hands on the table. "Do you listen to jazz?"

"I've dabbled, but classical music is the only genre that I find myself turning to." He noted that she'd removed her gloves.

She nodded. "I understand. Though I listen to almost anything, really."

"Anything?" Kyoya raised an eyebrow.

"Rap, rock, R&B, hip hop, grunge, pop, ska—well, you get the idea."

He laughed. "You really are very interesting."

"And your accent is very sexy."

Startled, he wondered if she'd been joking, but her eyes pinned him to his chair. He felt fire under his skin as he stared back at her, something changing slightly in the air between them. Kyoya leaned forward, one hand moving on its own to reach for hers—

"Oursin, for the lady."

Melanie turned her eyes towards the waiter, who Kyoya wanted to punch in the throat for existing. The man placed a plate of sea urchin served in their shells. Kyoya had to wonder about her choice as the waiter said something to him and placed the duck liver in front of him. Kyoya looked up to see the waiter studying Melanie. He glanced down at Kyoya, turned bright red, and bowed slightly, dashing away.

"You didn't have to glare at him like that," Melanie said quietly.

Kyoya looked at her amused expression, surprised that she'd returned to speaking Japanese. "I didn't glare."

"You did." She picked up her silverware and studied the urchin for a moment before glancing back up at him. "Aren't you going to eat?"

Kyoya picked up his fork and knife and forcefully began to cut his meal into pieces. "If I did glare at him, it's because he was staring at you."

"Just because I was friendly with him," she said. She leaned forward conspiratorially. "Which I used to avoid having to butcher his language."

Kyoya had to laugh at that. She was so transparent most of the time, but she just proved she could be manipulative when she wanted. "Touché."

The rest of the meal passed quickly, their chit-chat dying off while they ate. He couldn't help but notice that she kept casting her eyes around the room. Occasionally, his eyes would follow hers—what was she looking at? He wanted to ask, but it almost felt like an intrusion.

When they finished, Kyoya cleared his throat. "Are you ready?"

"Yes!"

Melanie stood at the same time as Kyoya, surprising him. He'd assumed she would wait for him to pull her chair out for her. As he followed her to the door, he had to remind himself that she wasn't like the girls he was used to.

He helped her put her coat on, his fingers brushing her bare skin. He smiled softly as she looked up at him, her eyes drawing darker. He reminded himself to breathe. No, she wasn't like any girl at all, anywhere.

They rode to the symphony in an almost shy silence. Kyoya kept trying to think of something to say, but eventually succumbed to the quiet. Melanie seemed comfortable, peering out the darkened window. What little light filtered in highlighted her eyelashes, curved a shadow under her cheek. He leaned back, appreciating the view of her.

They were perfectly on time as Kyoya held out his hand, helping Melanie out of the car. He tried not to be disappointed as her hand instantly slipped from his as soon as she was stable. He noted her take note of the building as they entered, someone ushering over to take their coats.

"Mel-san?"

Kyoya blinked at the small, pixie-like girl. Wearing a workers uniform, she stared at Melanie, wide eyed. Who was she? Kyoya wondered. To him, no one.

"It's me, M—"

"Mei-san!" Melanie laughed in delight, clapping her hands. "You work here?"

The girl nodded. "I can't believe you remember me! You look, just, wow!"

"Mei-san bought the painting of the couple in the park." Melanie turned her smile on Kyoya.

"I see." He smiled politely. "It's very good to meet you, Mei-san."

The girl's eyes widened and he watched her acknowledge her mistake. They were guests, not friends. If she didn't know who he was, she at least knew his station.

"It's very nice to meet you as well." Mei bowed, her expression turning to remote politeness. "May I take your coats?"

"I hope you're well," Melanie continued. If she'd noticed the change in the girl, she didn't show it. "Please come by the store soon, okay?"

Mei nodded, glancing between Kyoya and Melanie before turning away. Something unpleasant rolled over Kyoya—had her look been one of disapproval?

"What a small world, right, Kyoya?" Melanie said.

He stared after the girl's retreating figure. "Yes, it is."

They quickly found their seats, and without further interruption, the production began. Kyoya had seen this group before, and they were delightful, but his mind began to wander during the performance. The night seemed to be going exactly as planned, and Melanie appeared to be enjoying herself. Something bothered him, however. She seemed more subdued than usual, cooler. Not the way she had at his father's party, where her coolness came from a place of anger—a burn that felt like frostbite. She was just softer somehow.

About twenty minutes into the performance, he allowed himself to sneak a glance at her. Once he did, his eyes remained glued.

Tears were dropping steadily down her cheeks, her eyes as bright and full of wonder as a child watching fireworks for the first time. Her breath hitched, and an almost-sigh floated from between her beautifully imbalanced lips. She was so engrossed in the music, the performance that she didn't seem to notice his eyes on her at all.

By the time the symphony was over, Kyoya had spent more time wrapped up in her than the music.

The lights brightened the room, and people around them began to stir. Melanie broke from her reverie, and noticed she'd been crying. She slapped her hands over her face, turning her wide eyes on him.

"Mushball!" she whispered.

Kyoya laughed loud enough for the people in front of them to turn around curiously.

Melanie got herself mostly put together, and Kyoya felt like they were the only people in the entire building as he followed close enough behind her to catch the scent of vanilla. After they'd retrieved their coats, Melanie turned to face him, only to have someone slip their arm through hers.

"Why, Kyoya, where did you find such a delectable creature?"

Melanie studied the girl touching her before turning her eyes to Kyoya. The intruder had on a skintight red dress that did not detract from the cold pierce of her eyes. He tried to stop himself from bristling and growling like an animal.

"Hello, Shizuku," he replied coolly.

"Don't forget big brother."

He flicked his eyes toward the white-haired boy beside him. The boy appraised Kyoya with a smile as greasy and dangerous as an oil spill. "Keiichi."

"I haven't seen you around before." Shizuku turned her gaze on Melanie.

"Yes, well, it's my first time here, you see."

Kyoya wanted to grin at the frost coating Melanie's words. She was even more politely demeaning than she had been with him that first night.

"And your name, lovely girl?"

"You flatter me." She raised an eyebrow at Keiichi. "Coin Melanie."

The siblings made eye contact for a moment before breaking gazes. Kyoya was confident that they'd be as lost as he had been. It pleased him even more when Melanie stayed quiet, refusing to elaborate.

After a moment, she looked up at Kyoya. "Well, it was a pleasure, but we should really be going, right?"

"Oh, yes, right." Kyoya made a show of checking his watch. "We don't want to be late."

Melanie unhooked her arm from Shizuku's and seamlessly threaded it through his. She bowed to the siblings, who Kyoya nodded at. They turned and practically waltzed from the building.

Kyoya wanted to laugh right then, but Melanie squeezed his wrist. "Don't get too excited—they're still watching."

He kept his face under control as he opened the door to the car and she lowered herself into it. He met Keiichi's cold gaze before he folded himself into the car and they drove off.

"Who were they?" Melanie asked.

"The Omura siblings. Their father owns Japan's major banks, and their mother is an accomplished Opera singer. They're terrible gossips and tend to toy with other's for amusement." Kyoya grinned. "I can't believe how well you handled yourself. Shizuku is one of the most intimidating women I have ever met."

When she didn't answer, he looked over. She was studying him seriously, the after-performance glow gone from her eyes. He felt his smile slip automatically.

Before he could question her, she smiled. "The music was remarkable."

"I'm glad you liked it."

She began to chatter on about the symphony, but Kyoya couldn't help but wonder what had stolen the light from her. Surely it wasn't the Omura's—they were generally awful, but tonight they hadn't done anything but be annoying. Was it something he'd done? He wanted to ask, but he wasn't sure how to steer the conversation back. With a jolt, he realized that she'd done that on purpose, and with begrudging respect he quietly acknowledged that she'd won: he could not bring himself to ask.

They pulled up to her house, and they got out of the car simultaneously, eyes meeting over the hood.

"I'll walk you," he said.

She nodded and waited for him before making her way towards her home. Kyoya tried to think of something to say as they climbed the stairs, moved deeper and deeper into shadow. Before he realized it, she had her keys in her hand.

"You really need to fix this light," Kyoya said finally.

"Yes, I keep complaining, but…" Melanie shrugged, turning to face him. "I had a really nice time."

There was something in her eyes that told Kyoya it would be a very bad idea to try and kiss her. Disappointment tore at his insides. Really, what had he done?

"I'm glad. I did, too." He tried to smile.

Melanie reached up and put a gloved hand on the side of his face. He sucked in a breath, too startled to move while she perched on her toes and kissed the other cheek gently.

"Goodnight, Kyoya."

She pulled away and disappeared into her home. Before she closed the door, he managed to choke out, "Goodnight."

He turned and made his way slowly to the car, his mind churning over the evening like an undertow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyoya says to Melanie (in French), "When you laugh, my heart dances." Melanie replies (in Gaelic), "I adore your rare and beautiful smile."
> 
> My fiance is learning French, and I'm learning Gaelic. So that's why there some of that here<3


	9. In Which Melanie Attempts Full Disclosure

"Where are you? It's noisy." Melanie wrinkled her nose, adjusting her phone against her ear.

"Don't worry about it." Jenna laughed, but after a moment the background of the call got quieter. "How was the date?"

Melanie rolled over on her stomach, groaning into her pillow. "I don't want to talk about it. Seriously, where are you?"

"Shut up, you have to tell me about it. I'm living vicariously through you, Melvin."

"It seems that we are both evading a subject." Melanie smirked, twisting a strand of hair around her fingers. Her heart squelched painfully in her chest at Jenna's nickname, though she was getting better at suppressing the homesickness for her pseudo-sister.

Jenna laughed again, this time quieter. "You could tell me how you're holding up. The anniversary is soon."

"Fine." Melanie pushed herself up and turned off the lamp before jumping back in bed. She knew there was no way she could allow herself to go there. "You win. The date was fine."

"Just fine?"

"I resent your tone," Melanie said. "Yes, it was just fine."

"I thought this guy was…wow."

"This guy is wow," Melanie said defensively. Then she sighed. "Do you really want me to get into it?"

"Yes, bitch!"

Melanie laughed. "God, I miss you, Jenna. Anyway, you saw the dress, and it was—"

"Hot."

"Not me," Melanie said dryly. "And I was so uncomfortable. We went to this French restaurant that was super fancy and had three things on the menu—none of which I could read. I just picked at random."

"What did you end up getting?"

"Oursin: sea urchin." Melanie pulled the phone away from her ear, wincing at the volume of Jenna's laughter. "I ate it, actually."

"Shit, you must love this kid."

"Anyway." Melanie's voice was a little too loud. "He glared at a waiter who was gawking at me, which was kind of adorable, and he said something to me in French that ended up embarrassing him, so I think it was probably something cute.

"When we got to the symphony, we ran into a girl I've become acquaintances with. She works there apparently. We were talking normally, but as soon as I tried to bring Kyoya into the conversation, everything got really stilted and awkward. She gave him this look."

"What kind of a look?"

"The there's-no-way-you-should-be-with-her-what-the-hell-are-you-doing look."

Jenna snorted. "Jesus."

"But the weird thing is that it seemed like she thought I was wasting my time with him and not the other way around. But anyway, the symphony was amazing, Jenna, it was truly just beautiful. I cried like an idiot."

"Naturally."

"Shut up. And then—"

There was a pause. "Uh oh."

Melanie sighed, trying to figure out how to explain it. "We ran into some people that Kyoya knows from, well, being rich I guess. They were awful. And after I'd gotten us away from them, Kyoya said something like 'I'm impressed that you handled yourself so well out there.'"

Another pause. "What are you? A fucking circus animal?"

"We had nice conversation at dinner." Melanie put her face back in the pillow. "And he's never said anything close to that before. He's very polite."

"He's no good, Mel."

"I think all my fears were right." Melanie squeezed her eyes shut to stop them from burning. "I think we just come from different worlds."

"C'mon, Melvin, any guy would be lucky to have you, no matter how rich he is. But this guy sounds like a real asshole."

"He is an asshole, but he's also…I don't know. Sweet, I guess." Melanie's face heated, remembering his hand tight on her wrist, the way he'd twirled her on the grass. A man full of facets.

Suddenly Jenna snickered. "God, Mel. You're such a sap. Just screw him and get him out of your system."

"Jenna!" Melanie tried to be offended but ended up laughing. "It's not like that, I don't think. I mean, I am attracted to him, like, a lot. But I think sex would just make it worse. Also, he's a virgin."

"You're adorably sentimental that way, unlike me." Jenna snickered. "The fact that you want to protect his innocence is kind of hilarious."

"I mean, I'm not totally against having sex," Melanie allowed. "I think I could screw around with him, at least until my feelings catch up with me."

Jenna sighed. "I know you. You would have a hard time breaking it off. And what if your uncle finds out that you two have been doing whatever-you've-been-doing?"

"I'm pretty sure he already knows. How can he not by this point?"

"True. Well, if this Kyoya ends up not being such an asshole, you need to make sure he doesn't talk down to you. Call him out on that bullshit."

"Yeah, yeah." Melanie's brow furrowed as someone started screaming in the background of the call. There was rustling, and Jenna shouted something unintelligible back. "Seriously, where are you?"

Melanie could hear the smirk on Jenna's mouth. "Hey, Melvin, I love you, but I gotta go. Keep me updated."

"I will. Love you, too, Jensen." The nickname dripped off her tongue, sounding too much like nostalgia. Melanie closed her eyes as the line went dead.

…

Kyoya heard her laughter before he even entered the room. He raised his eyebrow at the sight of Melanie wriggling out of the twins' arms, a devilish grin on her face.

"You'd better stop or else Mori-senpai will get jealous," she teased. She tossed a wink at Mori, whose face instantly turned red, though he offered her a small smile.

They hadn't spoken since the symphony, which had driven him insane. No matter what he'd thought about starting a conversation with, it all seemed too calculated or too direct, and he knew her well enough to know not to try her temper. And now she turned up without warning, flirting with his friends as if the past few days had just breezed by. Perhaps they had, for her. Kyoya cleared his throat, a little annoyed.

She turned at the sound, her cheeks instantly turning a little pink. He might have thought she was embarrassed, but she forged ahead happily: "There's the man we've been waiting for!"

"Hello, Melanie."

She bounced over to the wall, where he noticed a large object wrapped in brown paper. "I have a surprise!"

Kyoya joined the others as they gathered around. Melanie carefully picked up the object and pulled off the wrapping. It was turned away from them, but it was obviously the back of a painting.

"Ta da!" She spun it around with a flourish, a triumphant smile on her face.

The group was quiet for about a second before Haruhi approached it.

"It's wonderful!" Haruhi said.

The chatter quickly followed. Set against a black background, Tamaki was seated on his throne, an easy smile on his face. The rest of the group was posed around him, much like how they were when Melanie first saw them, except Kyoya was now standing with them.

Selfishly, Kyoya could only look at her representation of him. He was staring straight ahead, his face completely serious, his body relaxed. He had his hand on the back of Tamaki's chair, making him stand out more than the others, with the exception of maybe Haruhi, who was seated on the floor beside Tamaki. But it was the eyes he couldn't look away from—even behind his glasses, they were piercing and strangely amused. Condescending. He looked up and met Melanie's gaze.

She studied him openly, ignoring the rest of the chatter. "I meant this one to show how your clients see you."

Tamaki said something that Kyoya ignored. He wanted to know what Melanie was trying to tell him with the way her eyes studied his expression, the slight quiver of her full bottom lip as she breathed out.

"Kyoya?"

He turned his eyes on Tamaki, his annoyance bubbling over. "What?"

"You don't have to snap." Tamaki shrunk behind the twins who darted behind Mori, peeking out around him.

"Ignore him," Melanie said to Tamaki. "He's just mad I didn't call him after our date the other night."

The room went silent, and everyone looked at Melanie strangely. Kyoya turned his eyes to her slowly, the back of his neck burning. She held the painting out to him, and he took it without thinking.

"I'm sorry about that," she said. She smiled at him easily. "Let me make it up to you?"

"You went on a date?" The twins' eyes were round as saucers. "With Kyoya?"

"I know, it's shocking after all our flirting." She reached out and pinched the twins' cheeks. "But how could I possibly choose between the two of you?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tamaki hissed at Kyoya.

"I asked him not to," Melanie answered easily. She reached out for Tamaki's hand, lifting it over her head while she twirled. "It's no use getting everyone all excited about it, right?"

Kyoya had to look away from Tamaki's gaze. The blonde man was a buffoon, but a fool he was not. Why would Melanie lie to cover for him?

"I'll text you?"

Kyoya nodded down at her. She smiled weakly, putting her hand on his arm and squeezing slightly as she brushed past him. He turned to see her walking backwards, the beaming smile back on her face.

"I'm really glad you like the painting! The others should be done in the next few weeks. Have a good time today!" She waved before disappearing out the door.

Tamaki huffed and stomped off. Kyoya resisted the urge to sigh, and adjusted his glasses instead.

"You could have told us, Kyo-chan." Honey smiled up at him.

"I know." Kyoya looked towards the door a moment. "I'm not sure why I didn't."

It wasn't much longer before his phone vibrated.

"Sorry I got you in trouble. My house, tomorrow evening? Dinner?"

Kyoya shook his head. He typed back: "Dinner sounds great. I'll be there."

He looked up to see Tamaki staring at him glumly. Kyoya snapped his phone closed and pocked his hands.

"I know you're angry," he said. "I'm trying to figure it out."

"I really like her," Tamaki said seriously.

"So do I," Haruhi added.

Kyoya felt his neck grow warm as the group looked from her to him. He adjusted his glasses.

"She doesn't fit into your future, does she?" the twins asked.

Kyoya let his eyes drift to the clock tower outside, remembering her face, surprised and vulnerable as he'd asked to see her paintings on the lawn. Then he thought about his stake in the Ootori business slipping through his grasp.

"Like I said—I'm trying to figure it out." He turned his eyes to the group. "The guests will be here soon. Let's get to work."

…

Melanie turned up the music, jumping in place and rolling her head back like she was preparing for a boxing match. She surrendered herself to the music, like she used to with Jenna in dark places, when sweat dripped down her spine and she was no longer a body, but pure movement. She smiled, allowing the beat to pull her around.

God, she shouldn't be so nervous, but she was. If she wanted to know if Kyoya really wanted her, she had to let him see everything. Then she would have her answer. She'd gone over this proposition over and over. She was ready.

There was a knock on the door. Melanie paused before boxing her shadow for a second. She nodded fiercely, slapping her hands to her face. She was ready. She could do this.

"Come in!" she called.

She turned the music down as Kyoya slipped through the door. He stared at her for a moment before looking down, embarrassed, taking off his shoes. She smiled, trying to eradicate her nerves—she'd purposely worn one of her favorite outfits from home. A tight, black tank top that stopped at the bottom of her waist, and dark wash skinny jeans that clung to her body like she was born in them.

"You look nice," she said. He was wearing a white button down shirt and dark slacks.

"As do you," he said.

"Thanks!" She spun on heel and made her way to the counter. "Want to help me make dinner?"

"Sure."

She swore she could feel him move across the room, like some magnetism was drawing them together. She moved a little to the music as he came to stand beside her. She felt him watch as she coated two pieces of fish in oil and seasoning and threw them in the hot pan. They were comfortably quiet for a moment, letting the sounds fill the space.

"What is this music?" he asked.

She laughed. "You're not versed in American electro-pop? Ootori Kyoya, I'm shocked."

"I'm sure I wouldn't know the band even if you told me," he admitted.

"It's Odesza," she said. "Cut these up for me?"

She snuck glances at his large, capable hands and wondered suddenly what they would feel like running up her bare back. She smirked a little at the fish. Jenna would be so proud.

"Would you like to play the honesty game?" she asked suddenly.

He glanced over at her. "Sure."

"We'll change the rules this time." She checked the underside of the fish. "We'll just take turns asking each other questions. If we're asked a question we don't want to answer, we'll say 'pass.' But then the person has to ask the very next question."

"Have you played this before?"

"Jenna and I play it a lot," she admitted with a laugh. "Okay, you go first."

"Why didn't you call me?" he said immediately.

"I had a lot of thinking to do," she said. She made a note that he seemed relieved. Did he need her permission to ask her these things? "Why didn't you call me?"

"Because I didn't think you wanted me to." He tossed the vegetables in a large bowl. "You were very…reserved the other night."

She stood quietly for a moment, lifting the fish up to check it before flipping it over expertly. Feeling his eyes on her, she lifted her chin a little. "That wasn't a question."

"I feel like I'm always asking you what happened," he said dryly.

"I think that this will probably end badly between us," she said, avoiding the subject as usual. "But I can't seem to stay away from you. Isn't that strange?"

He stayed quiet until she looked up, holding his eyes. They were almost sad, the molten silver drawn in a way she'd never seen them before. Almost on instinct, she reached up and put her fingers on the back of his neck, pulling his forehead down to meet hers. She closed her eyes as his glasses bumped against her cheek.

"Don't be sad, Kyoya. I'm not looking for an answer to that."

She pulled back when she felt him shift closer to her. She tried to control herself as she turned back to the fish. She should have kept the conversation going, but she couldn't stand that look. She moved the fish from the hot burner, turning the stove off with her other hand.

"Just be here with me," she continued. For a little while longer.

The music shifted to something soft, acoustic. Melanie began to plate the food, the song rising from her voice naturally. When he didn't say anything else, she figured the game had been short lived.

He leaned against the counter and watched her arrange the vegetables, place the fish on them, and drizzle a dark liquid over the plate. She smiled and handed one out to him. They made their way to the table, and Melanie turned the music down.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, gesturing to the iPod dock.

"My landlord let me borrow it. His son heard me singing while he fixed my light," she said. "The iPod is also his, but his son put a lot of English songs on it for me."

"You have a beautiful voice," he said.

"Thank you. I sing pretty much all the time. It keeps me from feeling lonely, I guess."

"I used to be lonely a lot before the host club," Kyoya said thoughtfully. "I just didn't realize it."

Melanie raised her eyebrows, surprised he'd say something so open. "You seem to be pretty close with them now. I'm sorry for telling them about the date—I shouldn't have assumed."

"No, that's my fault." He sighed before popping the fork in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "I don't know why I didn't tell them."

"A small part of me wondered if you'd been embarrassed," she admitted. She stared at her fish for a moment before peeking up at him.

"No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not."

They stared at each other for a moment, and Melanie watched some unnamed emotions battle each other in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say more, but she decided it might be best to let that particular conversation die.

"I told Jenna," Melanie blurted.

He smiled, though he didn't seem relieved. "And?"

Melanie laughed. "She's, well, there's no one like her. If you think the twins are bad, then you are living in a fool's paradise."

"Come on now." He shook his head.

"Seriously!" She grinned, before committing to being completely honest. "She and I have had some pretty wild times. Drinking, smoking, getting into parties illegally to dance on the furniture and kiss strange people—you name it."

Kyoya choked on his food. She watched him struggle to regain his composure, his face turning a nice shade of pink. Well, admittedly, she could have handled that with a little more grace. But there was no going back now.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she continued, softer this time. "Like, I'm not a virgin, for instance. Those girls that you host, those are good girls. Ditzy, sure, and definitely shallow. Sheltered. But pure, in their own way—in a lot of ways."

Understanding blazed in Kyoya's eyes as he wiped his mouth. He'd finally realized that she'd had an agenda for bringing him here, and that he'd fallen into this trap.

"You wanted to know what happened the night of the symphony. I realized that we don't know each other one little bit. We don't know how to spend time together, how to speak to each other." She broke his gaze, let her eyes wander over to the bookshelf. "My parents died a year ago yesterday. I didn't even have the words to tell you."

"You have them now."

She nodded, but couldn't risk a glance. His tone had been too soft. She was doing so well at keeping herself together. She called on Jenna's steeliness to aid her. "These places—here, the park—they're like havens. I don't have to think about who you are and what that means when we're here."

"It is easier." His tone was begrudging.

"But you don't exist in this realm, not all of you." She turned her composure on him. He was sitting rigidly, his stormy eyes fixed on her. "You can't exist here. So I hold back, too."

After a thick moment, he asked, "What parts of me don't exist here?"

"Your coldness. Your cruelty. Your ambition and your cunning," she said immediately.

He looked at her carefully. "And the missing parts of you?"

"My past I guess." Melanie's eyes slid to the side without her consent. "My…impulsivity and my pain."

"And you want those here?"

When she laughed, it was a sound full of edges. "You really don't understand American girls, do you? Or perhaps just girls in general—I shouldn't narrow it like that."

"Explain it to me," he said. She tried not to shiver at the darkness in his tone, the heat.

"I want you." Her hands fisted beside her, a sudden intensity thickening her throat. "I want all of you. I want to tear you open and memorize every thought you've ever had. I want to mark you with my darkness so that everyone who looks at you knows that you belong to me.

"I'm jealous and bad-tempered. I'm rash and uncultured and messy. But I try to be honest. That's all I'm looking for—your honesty. If what you want is a flirtation, a dirty secret, I can be that for you, for a while. If this attraction between us is all we have, I'm willing to see it through. I just need us to be on the same page.

"Because I'm irresponsible, not stupid. I know that taking over the Ootori business, being the chosen son, is something you've been working towards all your life. Every day you get closer. Even my uncle talked highly of you before that party. So if you ask me to step aside for that future, I will."

"What would the consequences of that conversation be?" he asked lowly.

She violently suppressed a sadness that sloshed in her heart. She'd given him the option—of course he would consider it seriously. She shut her emotions down to answer as coolly as he'd just spoken. "If that's what you choose, understand this: I will keep my heart hidden from you, and you will never know it."

He stood, and she followed suit, a wariness gnawing at her stomach like a starving animal. She couldn't guess what his next action would be—and if his next step was towards the door, she knew that letting him go would be hard.

He padded around the table to her. She tried to take a step back, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her sharply towards him. Melanie heard her breath catch in her throat more than she felt it. Again, his grip on her was almost painful. She looked up to catch his smile before he pulled her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her palm.

She shivered before reaching up and removing his glasses. He let her drop them gently on the table, looking at her with heated eyes that made her heart race. Kyoya's other hand came up to pull her hair out of its tie. Melanie placed her hand on his hip as he dropped the tie to the floor and followed the line of her jaw with cool fingers.

"What makes you think I can resist this any more than you can?" he said. He seemed angry, his tone low and controlled. "Trying to trap me, run me off. You're naïve to think that would work."

"I gave you another option," she said. She tried to regain control, force herself to stop reacting and think.

"To use you?" He sunk his hand in her hair and pulled back, forcing her to look him in the eyes, exposing her throat.

She gasped as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss to the sensitive spot where her shoulder met her neck.

"Not using," she objected shakily.

"Then what?" He turned his head, trailing his tongue up her neck and blowing on it gently.

Shit. What were they talking about? "I…"

"You brought me here to choose between giving you up and using you. You implied that you would let me stay by your side, but you didn't believe it." He pulled back, moving his hand from her hair to her face. His eyes were suddenly gentle and sad. "Why won't you trust me?"

He released her and stepped back. His eyes were remote now. He'd set her up, made her out for a fool like she'd done to him. Something like shame moved under her surface, but more importantly, he was dropping his eyes, turning away—

The back of his shirt was in her hand before she knew what was happening. Kyoya stopped, his back stiffening. He stayed silent. She knew he was waiting.

"I can't let you go." She gritted her teeth, lowered her head.

He turned slowly to face her, lifting his arm over hers.

For the life of her, Melanie could not figure out how to open her fingers. "God help us. I can't let you go."

Kyoya reached for her, or they reached for each other. All she knew was his hand was back on her face, pulling her chin up. His lips were on hers in the next breath, a desperation exploding between them.

She pressed her body closer to him, her hand finding its way under his shirt. She ran her fingers over his bare stomach, curving around his side. He groaned against her mouth, and she reached up to the back of his neck with her other hand, deepening the kiss.

After those first heavy, frantic moments, they both calmed some. Melanie allowed her hands to roam over his chest, his back, while he kept a firm grip on the nape of her neck and around her waist. He angled her head to easily slip his tongue against hers.

After a few long, thrumming moments, he broke away, breathing raggedly against the skin of her neck. Melanie was just as bad, pulling air into her lunges in gulps.

"I'll figure this out," he whispered against her skin.

Instead of responding, she pressed her nails against the hairline on the back of his neck. He made a noise in the back of his throat, his hips jerking against hers.

He pulled back just enough to find her mouth again. This kiss was gentle, a slow burn. Melanie surrendered willingly, breaking off of her branch of control like the last falling leaf of autumn.

She was aware of what she'd done; strapped herself to a bomb without codes to stop the countdown. All she could now was ride it out as best she could. No matter what, she knew now that she'd be seeing this through to the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine the song Melanie's hyping herself up to is "Say My Name (feat. Zyra) (RAC Mix)" by Odesza. The acoustic one she sings later is probably something awesome, like "Two Poor Kids" by Ruth B.


	10. What does this Mean?

Melanie bopped along to the music, accidently bumping into Mori.

"If you want to touch me, senpai, just say so," she teased.

He smiled, moving out of her way. Tamaki and the twins were bickering over who should get to see what notebook first, while Haruhi and Honey moseyed through one at their own pace. Reaching the counter, Melanie plucked a strawberry off of the cake Honey had insisted on bringing, popping it in her mouth.

The small room was as full it had ever been. Melanie hummed to herself as she continued chopping the vegetables Haruhi had purchased. Mori appeared beside her, taking the knife from her hands.

She smiled up at him before moving to the oven. Opening it, she glared at the Shepard's Pie. "You'd better be delicious, or else."

The front door opened and Kyoya slipped through. She watched him take stock of the room, slipping his shoes off as he did so.

"There you are! I didn't think you were coming," Tamaki whined.

"Yes, yes," Kyoya huffed. His eyes zeroed in on Melanie and he took a step closer to her.

She smiled at him. "The food's almost done, I promise—"

Kyoya pressed a small box into her hands before moving his grasp to her face. He leaned down and kissed her briefly. "Sorry I'm late. The gift is for hosting us."

He turned and sat down beside Haruhi. Everyone stared at him, the music the only sound in the room. Nonchalantly, he leaned over to see what Honey and Haruhi were looking at. He nodded before turning a few pages.

"That one's my favorite," he said, pointing at a full-page sketch of a raven.

Melanie felt her face on fire—tickled pink, she thought. He'd been visiting her almost every day for three weeks, and still he managed to surprise her.

She looked down at the little box in her hands, remembering her break down about a week after the anniversary of her parent's death. He'd been kind and sweet, holding her while she raged through that storm. When she closed her eyes at night, she could still hear the deep raggedness of his voice: "I'm here. I'm here with you." Those words lived under her skin now, as tangible as a second heartbeat.

Shaking herself slightly, she popped open the lid and removed the object inside. After one glance, she couldn't help the excited howl that burst out of her mouth.

Spinning, she held the mug up for everyone to see. "It's Ghibli."

"I'm glad you like—oof."

Melanie had her arms around Kyoya's neck, squeezing. She buried her face against his skin and breathed deeply. He smelled dark, like spice. "I love it."

He made a strangled sound. She pulled away abruptly, catapulting herself back towards the sink.

"You know, I think Kiki is my favorite, because I grew up with her and also Tombo is just so cute—I had the biggest crush on him, but Totoro is also really special, not to mention…"

Melanie chattered away while she washed the mug, dried it, inspected it closely, and then proceeded to make herself tea. She got Kyoya's usual mug from the cupboard, splashed tea in it, and flitted to the table with them before striding back and opening the oven.

"Food's done!" she announced.

Mori patted her head before taking the salad bowl to the table. Melanie shut the oven off, extracted the glass dish of food from the oven's heat, and carefully followed Mori.

"So I'll just serve everyone the pie because it's really hot, and I think that's easiest," Melanie said, sinking to her knees beside Kyoya.

Everyone crowded around the small area, and Melanie sliced the food, dishing it out onto the plates. After a moment, she looked up, and was almost stunned. Everyone was grinning at each other, and there was a feeling of intimacy between them. A crazy mug was set in front of every placemat, and Melanie's chest felt suddenly tight. Feels like family, she thought.

"Mel-chan?"

She blinked and turned an embarrassed grin on Honey. "Sorry! I was, um, having a moment."

Kyoya's hand brushed gently across her shoulders. "Have you reached Jenna?"

Melanie shook her head, fully back in herself. "It's not the most unusual. Maybe she's on a…I don't know the Japanese word for it. Bender," she finished in English.

"Bender? Who's Jenna?" Tamaki asked.

"She's my, well, I mean she's not my sister but she is, if that makes sense." Melanie handed him a plate.

"Like how we're a family!" He grinned happily.

Melanie wondered briefly if that included her, trying to ignore the rising tenderness in her heart. This whole thing was making her feel too comfortable. "Yes, I suppose so. And I mean she might be partying, drinking, that sort of thing. She's a bit wild." She laughed suddenly. "God, I miss her. I'm actually hoping to go home for her birthday, but that's not for a few months yet. I've been saving a little at a time, so I should be able to afford it by then."

The group seemed too quiet as a whole. Melanie noticed the twins and Kyoya exchange a glance before Kyoya cleared his throat. "The food is wonderful, Melanie."

"Wait!" She smacked her hand down on the table, leaning forward. Her eyes narrowed at him. "I saw that. What just happened?"

The twins' expressions were innocent. "We don't know—"

"This is a realm of honesty!" Melanie gestured to the table as a whole. "You have all entered the sacred sanctum of my home. I have cooked you a meal, and you will repay me by explaining that look."

Kyoya rubbed the back of his neck, and the twins looked in opposite directions guiltily. Melanie glared between them for a second before turning slowly to Kyoya. His eyes were guarded as he looked back at her.

"Ootori Kyoya," she said lowly. "If you don't tell me what you're up to right now, not even Haruhi will be able to save you." She leaned even closer to him, but he held his ground. "Not even God."

"She's terrifying," Tamaki squeaked.

"I'll cave!" Hikaru crowed. "We're planning a birthday trip to America for you!"

Melanie deflated in an instant, rocking back. She stared at the light haired boy, whose face turned red.

"Because your friend's birthday is so close to yours, and we know you really want to see her," Tamaki added quickly.

Kaoru nodded. "But we know how you feel about favors, even though it's not a favor, it's a gift and—"

"No, no. It's very sweet." Melanie looked down at her food strangely before picking up her fork. "Thank you."

Honey started chattering suddenly about school, leaving Melanie to churn things over on her own. Kyoya's hand touched her knee briefly and then disappeared. Melanie cleared her plate steadily, trying to hold herself together. God, she really, really wanted to take that trip. Could she accept it? What would that mean?

She stood, taking her plate to the sink. Mori joined her after a moment.

"Don't overthink," he said quietly. "Leave that to Kyoya."

Melanie looked up at him, startled, before smiling. "Thank you, senpai."

"Call me Mori," he said.

She held her breath for a moment before grabbing him around the waist. She squeezed him tightly, trying not to cry. He hesitated before patting her awkwardly. Then she released him, taking a deep breath and turning to the rest of the group.

"Are you ready for your surprise?" she asked brightly.

"You hugged Mori-senpai!" Tamaki's voice was surprised and almost wounded.

She wagged a finger at his pout. "Your turn is coming, don't worry. Americans are touchy-feely, remember?"

"What's the surprise?" Honey asked.

Melanie sprang forward, raising her fists over her head in triumph. "Your paintings are done!"

The room burst into excited chatter. Melanie smiled sweetly at Kyoya before disappearing into the bathroom. When she returned, she had a stack of mid-sized paintings in her arms.

"You had them in the bathroom?" Kyoya asked dryly.

"In the shower, specifically, with the curtain drawn." Melanie winked at him. "There isn't much room to hide them here. But worry not—I had them wrapped in plastic."

Everyone stood, and Melanie began to distribute them. Every time she handed someone their painting, she kissed their cheek and threw an arm around their neck, causing each in turn to blush furiously, even Haruhi. Tamaki was the only one who laughed wholeheartedly and hugged her back.

The room fell quiet while everyone studied the images of themselves. Melanie finally turned to Kyoya, holding the last canvas out to him.

He took it slowly, his eyes reluctant to leave hers. She twisted her hands together, watching him look over the image.

"Your large portrait was how everyone else sees you—these are how I see you." She turned to the group, spreading her hands. "I love you all. I hope you can see it."

"We see it," Kaoru said quietly.

Hikaru stepped out and pulled Melanie into his chest. "Thank you."

She hugged him back, a smile coming to her lips. "You're welcome."

"Mori's smiling!" Tamaki's laughter rang out.

Soon everyone was grabbing at each other's works. Each painting was set on black backgrounds, mirroring the group painting, and they were all in their school uniforms. Mori stood straight on, shoulders square, a small smile on his lips, his eyes soft and kind. Honey was holding Usa-chan out, a happy grin on his mouth but a cunning glint in his gaze. Haruhi was looking up, above the viewer, smirking with determination and joy on her face, a hand on her hip. Hikaru had his arms crossed, but he was soft and uncertain. Kaoru had a half smile, more relaxed, one of his hands up by his shoulder in a wave. Tamaki had one hand on his hip, the other buried in his tousled hair, his eyes looking pensively off into the distance.

Kyoya was the only one who continued to study his painting away from the hubbub. Melanie's eyes kept returning to him, the way his hair flopped down over his forehead in a way that obscured his tilted face.

Melanie reached out and gripped the edge of Kyoya's frame, tilting it towards her. It was upside down, but she knew every line and curve. He had one hand in his pocket, the other lifted to his face. His thumb pressed against his bottom lip, marring a small smile, the rim of his glasses cutting across his gaze. He was amused and conflicted, on the verge of a laugh or a sigh.

She looked up at the real Kyoya, meeting his gaze. "So?"

He nodded softly. Melanie thought her face might split in half.

"They're definitely worth the price we offered," Haruhi said softly.

Melanie twisted, her eyebrow arching. "Don't ruin the moment, Haru-chan."

…

Kyoya took the plate from her, reveling in the way his wet fingers slid against hers in the trade. She didn't seem to notice anything, a song dripping easily from her lips. Everyone else had gone home. In the easy quiet, Kyoya realized he'd never been more relaxed in his life. He lived for these quiet, mundane moments with this girl. He dried the dish before setting it aside.

"Melanie."

"Hmm?"

He waited until she looked up at him. Whatever she saw in his eyes made her pause, her bright blues growing a little darker.

The words were right there in his mouth. But for some reason he found himself choking on them.

Melanie dropped a plate back into the soapy water, her hands coming up to tangle in Kyoya's hair. He melted into her kiss, his mouth hungry on hers, his fingers greedily biting the skin of her waist.

This kiss was really something. Not since the very first time he kissed her had he felt such urgency. After only a few moments, he was lifting her hips to rest on the edge of the counter, mindful not to smack her head off the cupboards.

She made a small noise of surprise, but her thighs easily gripped him, pulling him closer to her. He almost growled his approval into her mouth, sinking his teeth into the firm flesh of her lower lip.

Her body jerked in response, her chest rising to brush against his. His fingers slipped under her shirt, skimming up her stomach until they came to settle across her breast. Though he had never even come close to crossing this line with her, he wasn't surprised by his lack of hesitation. He'd thought of doing it many times. Her hands trembled against his neck as he rubbed a thumb lazily over her thin bra.

Melanie let out a gasp, arching into him. She sucked softly at his lip, and her hands slid from his neck to his belt. Kyoya bit back a groan as his pants slipped a little down his hips, exposing the waistband of his boxers. Her fingers toyed with said waistband, causing his body to strain against her in the most wonderful way.

An unfamiliar ring tone peeled through the air, much louder than the soft music playing. Melanie tensed under Kyoya's hands, her entire body freezing. The phone rang again, and just as Kyoya was about to tell her to ignore it, her hands were on his chest pushing him away.

He collapsed back against the counter, dragging a hand over his face as she stumbled to her bed and frantically searched for her cell phone. He watched her stare at the screen, and he caught the slight tremor in her hands. Somehow he knew that wasn't caused by left over energy from what had just been happening between them. A chill went through him.

She took a deep breath before answering. "Hello?"

His breathing getting back under control, Kyoya tucked in his shirt and threaded his belt through the buckle. His eyes never left her.

"This is she." She tucked hair behind her ear, rocking back on her heels. "Yes, I understand. I'll be ready."

At her tone, his hands automatically clenched the counter. She hung up the phone, rubbing a hand over her mouth. After a moment of watching her stare absently at the wall, he cleared his throat.

"Melanie?"

She stood and slowly turned to look at him. Her lips were swollen from his, and she still had a little color left in her cheeks. But her eyes were bright with something that looked curiously like dread.

"Melanie," he said again.

She padded across the room, dropping her phone on the way. When her hands came up, he couldn't help but reach out for her.

She pulled him down for another kiss. This one was slower than the last, but just as hungry. She pressed her entire body against his, molding herself into him as if she were designed to fit there.

He pulled back, but she only turned to nip and suck at his neck. Kyoya groaned low in his throat, causing her fingers to flex around his arms.

"Who called?" he asked. He wasn't embarrassed a bit that his voice shook when he spoke.

"I have to get ready soon," she whispered against his skin. "I've been summoned to the main house."

"What?" She might as well have doused him in ice water.

"Shh," she said.

She pulled his face back down, biting hard on his lip. He made a noise of surprise and returned her assault in full.

But his mind was no longer fully engaged in the wonderful heat of her mouth and hands on him. He couldn't help but wonder why the fuck the Hashimoto's had summoned this girl, and if it had anything to do with him.


	11. Decisions and Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some half-naked touching in this chapter, so be warned!

The house wasn’t as big as the Ootori’s, but you couldn’t call it anything less than a mansion.  
Melanie slid out of the car and followed the—butler? Help?—into the house without comment, though her stomach was so far up her throat that she felt like she might suffocate. She was ushered up a grand set of stairs and into a huge library that almost had her drooling.  
“Melanie.”  
The voice was condescending. She recognized it instantly as her uncle’s, and turned her perfectly controlled expression towards the source. Her palms felt too sweaty. “Hashimoto-sama.”  
“Let us get to the point, shall we?”  
Hashimoto crossed the room, his small, lithe body moving as easily as a predator towards her. She nodded curtly, and knew better than to sit. She probably wouldn’t be here long enough to get comfortable, even if that were possible. He stopped on the other side of a low table, his hands behind his back.  
“For the last few months you have been enjoying the company of the Ootori’s youngest son, as well as several other important family’s sons.” His dark eyes sliced up her form. “Care to comment?”  
“I was sought out and hired by their club. They commissioned paintings from me.” She was pleased at the amount of control in her tone.  
Her uncle scoffed. “Tell me something I do not know.”  
“Something tells me that if I could, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”  
Hashimoto nodded, something a little less than respect flickering briefly in his eyes. “I allowed this interaction to happen, because I was curious to see what could come of it. Not including the scholarship student, having a tie to those families—any tie at all—could have been very useful to us.”  
He paused, as if waiting for Melanie to comment. She simply stared at him, hoping her dawning fear wasn’t showing in her eyes.  
“It was even more curious when I heard Ootori had taken you to the symphony. It caused quite a stir amongst several families, but I decided not to act. If there was any chance that his father would allow a courtship, it would be very unwise for me to interfere.”  
Melanie folded her hands behind her back, squaring her shoulders. Perhaps he hadn’t seen her hands tremble. She refused to comment, but held his gaze steadily.  
“Alas, you were not seen with him again. I had a bad feeling. So I had you followed and photographed.”  
He tossed a few photographs on the table between them. Melanie glanced down to see various images of her and Kyoya around her neighborhood. They were all innocent, but there was one of Kyoya’s hand pressing into the small of Melanie’s back, a rare act of public affection that she had secretly treasured until this moment. She returned her eyes to Hashimoto’s, trying to keep any emotion from her expression, trying to squelch her rising panic.  
“You’ve taken it too far, and I am not the only one to notice. As of this moment, you are to cease all contact with Ootori, as well as those you have been visiting at Ouran. You have spit on my kindness by acting so shamefully. I thought that by not allowing you to live here or attend school at Ouran, you would remain aware of your position. Clearly this wasn’t the case.”  
Melanie tried to focus on where she was. She nodded tightly.  
“If you contact any of them again, there will be serious consequences for you.” His eyes gleamed with an angry light. “I don’t care if you’re my wife’s blood or not. I will not allow you to tarnish our reputation.”  
Melanie nodded again, bowed deeply, and left the room without comment. Her heart was about to rip itself out of her chest, her mind was racing, and there was only one place she could bear to think of going, consequences be damned.  
…  
Kyoya was in the middle of writing an essay when the first tap sounded on his window. He sat up sharply, tilting his head. Bach floated out of the speakers in his room, which made him question if he had heard anything in the first place.  
When the second tap sounded, much louder this time, Kyoya stood and made his way cautiously to the window, pulling it open and looking outside. A gust of cold wind struck him, and he had to blink a few times to see properly.  
“Good evening, sir.”  
Hotta, one of Kyoya’s drivers, was looking amusedly at him. Before Kyoya could respond, a flash of red was in his vision.  
“Hey there!”  
Melanie gripped the window frame and stood on her toes to place a kiss on his chin. Kyoya looked from her to Hotta, who grinned and shrugged.  
“She insisted. How could I refuse?”  
Melanie laughed softly and twisted to see the older man. “You’re so kind, Hotta. Thank you for entertaining my ludicrousness.”  
Hotta bent down, letting her step carefully into his hand. He lifted her gently, and Kyoya drew her in when she reached out for him.  
“My father doesn’t need to know about this,” Kyoya said quietly to Hotta.  
“Understood, sir.” He turned his eyes to Melanie, giving her a small smile. “Call me when you’re ready to go home, okay, Mel-chan?”  
She nodded enthusiastically, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “Thank you again, Hotta,” she said softly.  
She was rewarded with a grin before the man stepped out of the light and disappeared across the lawn.  
Kyoya pulled the window closed and turned to see Melanie exploring his room curiously. He padded over to her as her eyes searched the walls.  
“Looking for something?” he asked.  
“I’ll admit, I’m a bit disappointed that my painting isn’t here.” She shook her head slightly, tossing her coat over the back of the couch. “The chandelier, I mean.”  
Kyoya held out a hand, surprised by the sadness he saw in her eyes. “Come with me.”  
She hesitated a second before placing her hand in his. He tugged her back across the room and to a small flight of stairs.  
Once they were in the loft, Melanie let out a soft laugh. There, right over Kyoya’s bed, was the painting she’d been looking for.  
“Can I ask why you’re here?” He pulled her back against him, burying his nose in her hair. A part of him still marveled that he was allowed to do this. He was dying to know about the visit with her uncle, but something told him it wouldn’t be a good idea to ask.  
“Want me to leave?” she teased. She put her hands on his arms as they snaked around her shoulders.  
“Avoiding the question, as usual.” He chuckled. “Shall we play the honesty game?”  
“I’m quite done with games for the night.”  
Kyoya stilled at the darkness in her tone. When he relaxed, she turned to face him, looping her arms around his neck.  
His view of her was skewed by her hair as she rested her forehead against his chest. He held her quietly, trying to figure out what angle to approach the situation. The last thing he wanted was to ask the wrong question and have her shut down.  
“Shall we continue what was interrupted earlier?” she asked sweetly.  
Something twisted in his gut. “Melanie…”  
“Kyoya. Please.” She tilted her head back, and the desperate desire in her eyes actually sucked the breath from his lungs.  
He knew it was wrong, that it wouldn’t get him the answers that he wanted. But how could he say no?  
She instantly came to life under him, hot as a firecracker. He was quickly distracted, and allowed her to maneuver him to the bed. She pushed him back, and he took a seat, his hands settling easily on her hips.  
Her hands came to rest gently on his shoulders. Kyoya pushed her shirt up and nipped the skin of her stomach. She shuddered, and when he glanced up at her, she smiled almost shyly at him. As Kyoya leaned back, his hand instinctually tried to pull the fabric back over her exposed skin. When her hand moved to stop him, he fixed his eyes intently on hers.  
She stepped back just enough to pull her shirt up and over her head. She dropped it easily on the floor behind her before moving forward and getting on the bed, her thighs settling on either side of Kyoya. He tried not to ogle her breasts before Melanie leaned down and gave him a slow, lingering kiss. As she pulled back, he helped her take off his shirt. She tossed it on the floor behind her.  
There was about half a second where they just held their breath, staring at each other. Then Melanie reached up and took off Kyoya’s glasses, tossing them further up on the bed, and that sense of control he had around her suddenly slipped away.  
He surged up, bringing her with him while he stood long enough to flip her back on the bed. Her breath sucked in as he palmed her knees, leaning down into her and capturing her mouth with his.  
She responded immediately, digging her nails into the skin right above his jeans. His hips jerked against hers, eliciting a gasp from both of them. Kyoya’s hands found their way to her stomach, and he ran his fingers over every inch of skin available to him.  
It wasn’t long before he pulled back to explore with his mouth instead. He was encouraged by the noises she made in the back of her throat, the way her fingers tangled in and tugged at his hair. Every inch of her smelled like vanilla, and maybe something a little sharper.  
Then her bra was off—just like that. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of her half-naked form, the way her left breast leaned a little bit more towards her side than the right, the small freckles dusted across the skin there. He leaned down and nuzzled her, taking a rosy nipple in his mouth.  
She dug her nails into his shoulders. His mouth moved further up her breast, and he bit down fairly hard on the smooth skin there. She emitted the singular most beautiful and erotic sound he could ever have imagined, causing his body to grind into hers. They both groaned, and Kyoya panted against Melanie’s skin while he pressed their jeans together again and again.  
Thinking back on it later, he couldn’t be sure what prompted him to look up into her face. There certainly hadn’t been a change in her heavy breathing, or in the way her hands kept trying to drag him closer, or how her legs hooked around his waist, flexing every time he thrust against her.  
But he did look up. And what he saw almost stopped his heart.  
Tears were dripping freely down her temples, getting lost in her brilliant red hair. Her eyes were shining, the blue magnified under pools slipping out over her lashes. She seemed a little surprised herself: as he stared, one of her hands floated up to touch her face. Her fingers shook as she pressed them down on her damp skin.  
Kyoya reached up and took that hand in his, pulling it away from her face. He shifted so that he was directly over her. She did not shy away from his gaze, but met it head on.  
“Why?” he whispered.  
“I l—” she appeared to choke. He watched her struggle for a moment, the tears slipping out a little faster. “Oh, Kyoya. You’re so beautiful.”  
He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to contextualize that. Instead, he leaned back, pushed her legs closed and to one side, and fell heavily beside her. He dragged her close to him and gathered her in his arms like he had during that miserable breakdown when she’d allowed herself to relive her parents’ deaths.  
He could feel her breaking apart like that last time, but he felt even more lost now than he had then. Kyoya could not even begin to guess what his beautiful, fiery girl was struggling with. A few things ran through his mind, but he picked the one that scared him the most.  
“Did we go too far?” he asked.  
She let out a miserable hiccup of a laugh, which only made him feel a little better. She put a hand on her face and scrubbed it hard before propping herself on one elbow. She looked down at him. She wasn’t crying anymore, which was good, but there was a haunted look in her eyes that he couldn’t understand.  
“What a mood killer,” she said sheepishly.  
Kyoya pinched her cheek and pulled the skin away from her face a little. He whispered, “Mushball.”  
She laughed before leaning down and kissing him softly. After, she pressed her forehead to his, and her hair became a curtain around them. Kyoya closed his eyes after she closed hers. He ran the tips of his fingers across her shoulders lightly enough to make her shiver.  
“Do you have a plan yet?”  
He knew exactly what she meant. He sighed slightly, running his hand over her hair. “I’m working on it.”  
She nodded, nuzzling his cheek.  
Not much longer after that, she pulled away and began to put her clothes back on. He followed her wordlessly, pulling his shirt back over his head and finding his glasses. She sent a text—he assumed to Hotta, and while he wondered when she got that number, he didn’t comment—and bundled herself back in her jacket.  
“I’m worried.”  
She turned at his words, her lips parting. She held his gaze for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before crossing over and putting her arms around his middle.  
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m okay.”  
“And us?” he asked gently.  
She smiled up at him. “We’re okay, too.”  
He nodded tightly, though something tensed in his stomach. Before he could stop himself, the words were falling out of his mouth. “What happened at your uncle’s tonight?”  
Melanie opened her mouth and a tap sounded on the window. Kyoya followed her over to it, pulling the window open for her.  
“It wasn’t important—it can wait,” she said.  
“Call me,” he said.  
She smiled and kissed him chastely before swinging her legs over the sill and jumping down next to Hotta. Kyoya and Hotta exchanged a glance and a head nod before the man followed the younger girl across the lawn.  
Kyoya leaned outside and watched them. Right when Melanie was about to disappear into the inky darkness of night, she paused and twisted back to look at him. He raised a hand and waved, which she returned. He was reminded of that afternoon at the park when he’d asked her to paint the group.  
Then she turned and continued on her way away from him. Kyoya shut the window, but stood looking out of it long after she’d disappeared from sight. He had the horrible feeling he was missing something important, something she maybe tried to tell him tonight and he’d failed to understand.  
…  
Yes, there were consequences. She’d known that, and yet she’d still felt as if she could disobey. Hanging out with powerful friends and loving a powerful boy made one feel powerful, she supposed.  
She’d known it as soon as he’d kissed her—this would be their goodbye. Someone more powerful than her uncle had to have intervened. She didn’t want to think about who that had been, although it was painfully obvious.  
Her aunt had warned her about this, when she’d first been brought here.  
_Don’t make him angry. He won’t hesitate to punish you, and then you will be completely alone._


	12. A Girl Who's Impossible to Find

He called her several times in the days following. Each time she was busy at work, though she always managed to reassure him in her text messages. He understood the amount of pressure on her to make money, though he felt like maybe they were finally getting to a place where she could accept his help.  
It wasn’t until a week later when he walked into the club room that he realized his initial instinct had been right. Everyone was holding large manila envelopes. Tamaki sprang to his feet and moved towards Kyoya, holding one out for him to take.  
“What are these?” he asked. It had his name printed on it in English.  
“Dunno,” the twins said. “We were waiting for you.”  
Kyoya tore his open and the rest followed suit. He tipped the envelope and a small piece of art framed with cardstock slid into his hands. He held it up, involuntarily sucking in a breath.  
It was him, standing on top of a reflecting pool. Ripples disturbed the water around his bare feet, his dark jeans dipping just below the surface while his body stayed above. He was twisted back to look at the viewer, a sad sort of smile on his face. His glasses were in one hand held halfway to his face. It was saturated in color so vibrant that it looked like he could fall into the piece and become a part of the world.  
Kyoya tore his eyes off the picture and pulled the last piece of paper out of the envelope. When he opened it, his heart dropped to his knees.  
“Kyoya,  
I hope your future is everything you want and more. I’ll always be rooting for you.  
Yours, Melanie.”  
He swallowed heavily before raising his eyes to the rest of the group. They each had a letter in their hands.  
“Let me see yours.” Kyoya held his hand out towards Tamaki, ignoring the fact that it trembled slightly.  
Tamaki obeyed. Kyoya pulled Tamaki’s art piece out of his hands and stared at it. It was a meadow in the middle of the woods. Tamaki was barefoot and playing the piano while wind bent the flowers towards smoke in the background. This, too, was intensely colored.  
Kyoya resisted the urge to laugh. He looked back at his own and realized that this is what Melanie saw when she looked in his eyes. Someone who was only looking back.  
“Kyoya, what is this?” Tamaki asked.  
“I don’t know,” he said. His voice was strangely subdued.  
“Mine sounds like a goodbye,” Haruhi said.  
The silence in the room was profound. For once, Kyoya’s mind was almost completely empty. His eyes drifted to the clock tower outside. All he could chew on was one thought: Melanie, what the fuck is happening?  
“Kyoya?”  
He focused on Tamaki. His friend’s eyes were clear and calm.  
“I said I think we should cancel club activities and go to Melanie’s house.”  
Kyoya cleared his throat. “Yes. Okay.”  
…  
“Melanie!” Kyoya pounded on the door again.  
“I don’t think she’s home,” Mori said.  
The apartment door next to them flung open. A girl with short dark hair stuck her head out, a cigarette dangling from her lips.  
“Would you kindly shut the fuck up?” she asked in a monotone voice.  
“We’re so sorry, miss!” Tamaki bowed slightly to her. “We were just—”  
She ignored him and pointed at Kyoya, stepping further outside. She wore baggy jeans slung low on her hips, and a tight tank top that rode up to expose the pale skin of her hips. “You’re the boyfriend, right?”  
“You know Melanie?” He took a step closer to her.  
“Sort of. That was my dress she wore on your first date.” She appraised him coolly, blowing smoke out of her nose. “You try her cell phone?”  
He nodded curtly. “On the way over.”  
“And?”  
“It’s disconnected.”  
The girl grunted in affirmation and didn’t seem surprised. She rolled the cigarette around before seeming to decide on something. “She moved out.”  
Kyoya’s heart sputtered to a stop. “When?”  
“Few days ago.” She cocked her head. “Probably shouldn’t be telling you anything if she didn’t.”  
Kyoya took out his wallet and removed half the cash he had in it. He held it out.  
The girl grinned, chewing on the butt of her smoke while she counted it. “Well, shit, kid.”  
“Tell me what you know.”  
Her eyes ran over the group, who stood silently around Kyoya. “Got the feeling she was in trouble. Stopped listening to music, quit her job. Oh, and she started giving a bunch of her shit away.”  
“She what?”  
“She sold me some of her paintings for a great price, and even some of her clothes. Gave me a few cool mugs, too.” The girl shrugged easily. “She asked me to hold onto a box of her stuff, but never came back for it.”  
Kyoya’s only reaction was to curl his hands into fists. He saw his friends watching him out of the corner of his eye, but couldn’t come to care.  
“Could we see the box, please?” Tamaki asked slowly.  
She snuffed the cigarette out against the building and gestured for them to follow her inside. Tamaki nudged Kyoya, and they followed him inside.  
“Don’t bother taking your shoes off,” the girl said.  
The apartment was the same as Melanie’s, though it was much, much messier, and smelled strongly of tobacco. Kyoya noticed the stack of Melanie’s paintings on a chair. The girl pulled a box out from under a pile of clothes and turned to plunk it down on her small table.  
“Knock yourself out.”  
Kyoya pulled the box open and rooted around its contents. Almost all of her notebooks were there, along with some of her art supplies and nick-knacks. He pulled out a familiar sketchpad and opened it. The small drawing of the piano was there, tucked safely between the pages.  
“I don’t think she’s coming back.”  
Kyoya looked up at the girl, whose dark eyes were sympathetic. Her mouth pulled up on one side.  
“You think she went back to America?”  
“You think she would have left that drawing behind if she did?” She raised her hand to silence Kyoya. “I have no idea what that thing is, but the look on your face tells me it was important to her. Someone going home probably wouldn’t have dumped it on a neighbor.”  
He drew a deep breath. “What do you think happened?”  
“Look, kid, she wouldn’t be the first girl to run away from a bad situation.” She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers. “I thought she was giving you the slip, but you’re as transparent as a piece of glass.”  
“Why didn’t she tell me, then?” he asked. His hands tightened on the sketchbook.  
“Maybe she had to protect you, too, yeah?” She pulled the book out of his hand and tossed it in the box. “Girls like us don’t really get to end up with guys like you, you know? I mean, Christ, you’re wearing uniforms from that fancy rich school across town.”  
The gears in Kyoya’s brain groaned before they began to turn. He watched her lift the box and he took it from her automatically when she held it out.  
“I’ll let her know you stopped by and that I gave it to you, if she comes asking.”  
“But I shouldn’t hold my breath,” he said flatly.  
“I wouldn’t.”  
She turned him around and shooed the group out of her apartment. They emptied out onto the walkway, something heavy weighing down on them.  
“Hey.”  
Kyoya turned to look at the girl. She was leaning with her forearm propped against the door, her hand dangling over her head. The other hand played with her bottom lip while she scrutinized Kyoya’s face.  
“She’s a smart girl—tough. Got a temper like a fucking viper. Whatever’s going on, it’s got to be bad and it’s got to threaten more than just her, feel me?”  
Kyoya adjusted the box in his arms and said nothing.  
“I’m not pretending to know about your bullshit rich people politics, but I get around. I don’t have a fancy dress on retainer for nothing.” She bit down on her thumb, her eyes dark and clear. “Maybe just lay low for a while, yeah? Until you find her, or a trace of her even, just play it cool.”  
“You think she’s in danger.” Mori’s tone sent something hot and angry crawling down Kyoya’s spine.  
“She’s a good girl. And you morons are the only people to ever visit her place since she moved in.” The girl straightened and looked Kyoya in the eye. “You think she’d ghost out if she felt there was another way?”  
…  
Kyoya agonized through the next three days before he started his search. He was as successful as the first time he attempted to locate her. He reached out to his contact on the Hashimoto staff, but no one seemed to know anything significant: she’d been called in to the main house for a brief conversation with her uncle. No voices had been raised. She’d left immediately.  
“How did she seem to you that night?”  
“Distracted, I guess, but I thought it was more to do with why she wanted to see you than anything else.” Hotta had shrugged apologetically. “She was as charming, as usual. She even said she’d like to draw me sometime.”  
His friends started to tip-toe around him, as if he were a bomb about to go off. He ignored them as best he could, especially the worried glances Haruhi and Tamaki began exchanging with alarming frequency.  
“Do you want me to talk to her neighbor again?”  
Kyoya smiled a little at Haruhi. “Thank you, but no.”  
His search became an obsession. She was all he could think about during the day. And he woke up every morning swearing he could smell vanilla on his sheets. His grades never suffered, but he had to stop hosting for a while. It was too hard to pretend his heart wasn’t cracking a little every time it beat.  
“Maybe you should stop searching, Kyo-chan. Let her come to you?”  
Kyoya gave Honey a curt nod. “Yes. Maybe.”  
He could feel time grinding away around him. Too many days passed without answers. Was she safe? Did she think about him? He believed the clock tower would drive him absolutely insane. What happened? He waited for the anger to come, but it wouldn’t.  
“Kyoya, talk to me.”  
He turned away from the look in Tamaki’s eyes. “I’m fine.”  
It wasn’t until his father called him into his office for a meeting that Kyoya knew he’d taken the whole thing much too far.


	13. Moving Forward

“Sit down.”  
Kyoya sat at his usual spot next to his father at the table. He tried to quell a rising anxiety as he watched his father browse the morning paper.  
“We have always been direct with each other, and this will be no different.”  
Kyoya nodded and resisted the urge to adjust his glasses. Any wrong move could tip his father off to a potential weakness.  
His father folded the paper carefully on the table and turned to his youngest son. His dark eyes were sharp as they appraised him. “You’ve been looking for the Hashimoto’s American niece. You need to stop.”  
This was not unexpected, but it still shot anger down Kyoya’s spine. “May I ask why?”  
“It is no secret that you’ve been fond of her. You took her out where people could see you, even for just one evening, which gave the women around here something to gossip about for some time.”  
Kyoya resisted the urge to smirk. Melanie’s sharp senses had been on high alert that night, and even if the night had not gone the way he’d hoped, he still remembered it fondly.  
“I know you went to see her at her apartment—alone¬—though you were smart enough to keep that quiet. Besides us, only your drivers know, and they’re too loyal to talk to anyone outside the family.” The older man folded his hands neatly over the paper. “I thought this infatuation would die off quickly once you realized how truly unfit for you she is. Now it’s been going on too long, and it’s time to put an end to it.”  
Kyoya’s stomach clenched—so his initial instincts had been right. His father certainly had something to do with Melanie’s sudden disappearance.  
“If you are really craving the romantic company of a young woman, we can set up some meetings with potential omiai.”  
“If she is so beneath me, why are you threatened by her?” Kyoya asked softly.  
“An unwanted pregnancy would certainly ruin you.” His father scoffed.  
Kyoya felt his back stiffen against his will. “I never slept with her.”  
His father nodded. “I’m glad to hear that my youngest son is not such a fool.”  
There was a long silence before his father sat back and picked up the newspaper once more.   
Kyoya took a deep breath and let it out as slowly as possible. “I will stop looking for her.”  
“Good.” His father nodded again. “If she hasn’t come crawling back by now, she doesn’t want to be found.”  
Kyoya stood and turned to leave. He only managed to take a few steps before some angry kind of desperation halted him. He clenched his teeth for an instant before making a decision.  
“You’re wrong about her, father,” he said. He turned to meet his parent’s eyes, knowing his own were steely. “She is my equal in every way—I would trust her opinion on business matters. She is as intelligent as she is charming and tough. And she doesn’t give a damn about our money. If that does not qualify as ‘fit’ for me, then I don’t know what does.”  
He knew his father would not answer, so he turned away and headed to his room, trying to regain control of himself the entire walk there.  
…  
Kyoya’s pencil squeaked slightly as he made some notes in his club book. They’d had an unusually busy day today, and he especially had more clients than normal. It appeared that his hiatus had bolstered some support amongst the clients. He bit the inside of his cheek while he considered how he could exploit this new information.  
“Kyoya?”  
He looked over his shoulder at Tamaki, whose expression instantly soured what little good mood he’d managed to find. “Don’t look at me like that. What do you want?”  
“Have you…have you heard anything?”  
The notebook snapped shut with a satisfying slap. Kyoya pocketed his other hand, turning to face Tamaki, and the others lurking about behind him.  
“She’s not coming back,” he said evenly. “I’m not looking for her. I don’t want to hear her name around here, either.”  
“Kyoya!” Haruhi’s brow crinkled. “You can’t ask that of us. She’s our friend.”  
“She’s a bitch.”  
Kyoya felt a shock go through him at the words. He kept his eyes flat as he turned towards Hikaru’s furious expression.  
Kaoru looked shocked. He reached out to grasp his brother’s arm. “Hika—”  
“No, Kaoru!” Hikaru jerked back away from his brother. His eyes flashed as he looked around the group. “Friends don’t make you love them and then leave a stupid fucking note and weird picture and never explain why they’re gone. They just don’t.”  
Nobody spoke for a moment. Kyoya felt tired as he looked from face to face. He wondered why Hikaru was able to be so angry, but he couldn’t find that within himself. It would be so much easier to be angry rather than hurt.   
Finally, he cleared his throat. “The pictures are what she saw when she looked in our eyes.”  
All eyes turned on him. Honey stepped forward. “How so, Kyo-chan?”  
He folded his arm, tapping the notebook against the top of his shoulder. His eyes wandered to the clock tower. “The first night we met, she said that when she looked into someone’s eyes, she could see who they were in an image, or maybe a sound. She told me about Tamaki’s meadow, then. I’ve asked occasionally what she saw in mine, but she would tell me that I’d see it in her work. And that’s what she always meant when she said your eyes were different from your brother’s, Hikaru. They are different only to her.”  
Silently, the club members drifted over to their own things. It didn’t take long for everyone to come back towards Kyoya, the drawings in their hands. Kyoya’s own was wedged into his notebook, the last piece of her he couldn’t help but carry around.  
One by one, they examined them as a group. Tamaki’s was familiar, and Kyoya had spent more than enough time memorizing his own. Haruhi’s looked down on a busy city sidewalk, but Haruhi herself was easily spotted: she was the only one with her face turned up towards the viewer, her eyes shining. The sun caught her hair, illuminating her from the inside out, like how one would imagine an angel to look.   
Kaoru was lying back against vivid grass, arms folded behind his head, his legs dangling over the side of a large cliff. He had on a ridiculous shit-eating-grin, as if he’d just remembered something wonderful. Hikaru was crouched in darkness, headphones on, his face partially obscured by his arms. He looked angry and in pain.   
Honey was sitting lotus-style in the middle of an overgrown forest path. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be utterly peaceful. Mori was reclining on the slope of a desert dune, his eyes intensely searching the arid landscape for something.  
“They’re accurate, at least.” Kyoya felt sick as his was passed back to him.  
“Don’t stop looking, Kyoya.”  
Tamaki’s brilliant blue eyes were sorrowful and almost defeated. Kyoya hated to see that look on his best friend, but he couldn’t take the pain of this anymore. He held out his portrait and Tamaki took it, his lips pursing.  
“I won’t keep looking for someone who doesn’t trust me enough to ask for help when they need it.” He shook his head, pocketing his hand. “I’m not talking about this again. She’s gone, and I’m not losing any more sleep over it.”  
He turned and grabbed his bag before heading for the door. Right before he left, he heard Hikaru growl, “Seriously, fuck her.” It sent another jolt through him, but he quickly stamped the feeling out. She was not his to defend. Perhaps she never was. The best thing he could do would be to move on.  
…  
This was easier said than done, however. Two days later, Kyoya stared at an unknown number from America flashing across his phone screen. He deliberated for a moment before picking up.  
“Hello?” he asked in English.  
“Is this Kyoya?”  
The unfamiliar English voice made him a little uneasy. “This is. Who am I speaking to?”  
“My name is Jenna Mendoza. I’m looking for Melanie.”  
“I’m sorry, Jenna, but I haven’t seen her for some time now.”  
There was a very long silence. “Can you give me her new number? The number I have was disconnected.”  
“I don’t have a new number.” Unease began to take over his rationality. “She disappeared on me. Quit her job, moved out of her apartment. I looked for her for a while, but never came up with anything.”  
“Well, I’m starting to freak out. She would never have ghosted on me. You have to know that.”  
He did. He really, really did.  
“I do. I just don’t know what to tell you.” He felt sick. “I’d been half hoping she’d returned to America.”  
“Well, she didn’t.” There was some loud rustling noises and Kyoya heard Jenna sniff and take a deep breath. “I’m gonna lose my shit, man.”  
“Have you called her aunt?”  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kyoya winced at Jenna’s volume. “Like I’d have her number. She didn’t even come out for her own sister’s funeral, the fucking bitch.”  
Kyoya’s mouth twitched involuntarily. “It’s one avenue I haven’t taken because—”  
“If you give me her number, I’ll call.”  
Kyoya paused before clearing his throat. “I’ll get you the contact information, then.”  
“Thanks.” Jenna let out a breath. “You’ll call me, right? If you hear anything?”  
“I will,” he promised. “I think you have a better chance than I, however.”  
“Bull.”  
“Give me just a minute. I think I might actually have the information right here.” Kyoya padded over to his desk and pulled out his black book. Jenna made an anxious noise in his ear as he flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. “Okay, I have it. Do you have a pen nearby?”  
“One sec.” There was some rustling. “Okay, shoot.”  
He gave her the information and listened to more rustling on the other side of the phone. He glanced at the clock and wondered what time it was for her.  
“You know, I haven’t been on your side for most of this. But you’re not the worst guy for her to love,” she said, distracting him.  
“Thank you, but she doesn’t love me.” Kyoya rubbed absently at his chest. “May I ask what I’ve done to offend you?”  
“Oh, it all goes back to what you said when you took her out to the symphony, I guess. And the fact you never took her out again, which I thought was suspicious.”  
“What did I say?” He furrowed his brow, racking his brain. “And Melanie said she didn’t want to go out anymore. That she was more comfortable just hanging out.” Our havens.   
“Well yeah, because you told her how impressed you were by how she handled herself around your rich people.” When Jenna laughed, it was eerily similar to how Melanie’s sounded when she was angry. “No wonder she didn’t want to go out again. It’s so typical of her not to confront you about that.”  
Kyoya found himself flopping back on his bed. He churned that new information over and over, letting silence fill the phone call. His eyes roamed over the ceiling, unseeing.  
“Listen, man, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just talk too much, you know?”  
He smiled a little at no one. “She talked about you all the time.”  
“No, she talks about you all the time.” Jenna’s voice took on a curiously soft tone. “She does love you, Kyoya. Like, wanting to never be away from you, but also protect your virtue and bullshit in love with you. I haven’t heard her so happy since before her parent’s died, you know?”  
“I don’t,” he said.  
“Well, I do. Trust me. Whatever the fuck is happening, it had to have threatened you, too.”  
“She should have told me,” he said. He blew out a breath, and the ceiling skewed in a weird way.  
“Yeah, well, she’s some special type of idiot. All we can do is work with what we got.”  
Kyoya laughed. “That’s true.”  
“Anyway, I’ll let you know if I get anything out of her aunt, okay?”  
“Please do. I just want to know that she’s okay.”  
They said their goodbyes and hung up the phone. Kyoya laid on his back for a long time, staring at the ceiling.   
Eventually, he reopened his phone and sent a text to Tamaki: “Come over.”  
The response was almost immediate. “On my way.”


	14. In Which Kyoya Regains Some Self Control

14\. In Which Kyoya Regains Some Control  
Tamaki hummed absently, his nose buried in a math book. Kyoya looked over his glasses at his friend, who was probably the kindest person he’d ever met. Not once since arriving at Kyoya’s house had he mentioned anything about Melanie or the demand for company.  
“Jenna called me,” Kyoya said.   
Tamaki looked up and held his gaze. Kyoya’s spine felt too tight under his skin. He’d never opened himself up to someone before Melanie. Especially not with anyone in the group, though they would kill for him, he knew. It was so much easier to bare yourself to someone you were falling for, he was learning.  
“Did Melanie talk to her?” Tamaki prompted gently.  
“No. She hasn’t heard from Melanie since we did.”  
Tamaki’s expression flashed between surprise and fear. “That’s—”  
“Impossible. I know.” Kyoya threw his pencil on his homework and sat back. “I gave her the Hashimoto’s contact information so she could call them.”  
Tamaki closed his book and put his elbows on his knees. “What do you think is happening?”  
“I’m beginning to wonder if Melanie made herself untraceable not to escape us, but the Hashimotos,” he admitted.  
“You think she’s in danger?” Tamaki’s jaw clenched.  
Kyoya shook his head. “It’s curious, though.”  
Tamaki ran a hand through his hair, disheveling it. He looked away as he sat back, a contemplative look on his face. As Kyoya gazed at the closest friend he’d ever had, a bitter sort of smile twisted itself across his lips.  
Tamaki glanced at him before raising an eyebrow. “Your expression is absolutely terrifying, mon ami.”  
Kyoya let out a hard laugh. “I’m in love with her, Tamaki.”  
“I know.” Tamaki’s smile was sad.  
“I almost told her, the night she gave us all those portraits.” Kyoya removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“Why didn’t you?”  
“I don’t know. The words just wouldn’t come out. And then she kissed me.” He chuckled at the memory.  
“Diversion is her greatest form of manipulation,” Tamaki agreed. “I watched her use it on you often.”  
“Yes, well.” Kyoya put his glasses back on. “You know, Tamaki, I think it’s time you tell Haruhi how you feel about her.”  
Tamaki’s eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly. Kyoya couldn’t help but grin at his friend’s shocked and flustered expression.  
“Y-you can’t use diversion on me!” he sputtered.  
“Who says I’m diverting?” Kyoya reached forward and pulled his homework into his lap. “You just never know what will happen. And Hikaru has been coming out of his shell more and more. If you’re not careful, you’re soon to have a serious rival.”  
Tamaki sank into a disgruntled silence. Kyoya dove back into his work, trying to rearrange his emotions into their proper places. It was some time before either of them spoke again.  
“Kyoya.”  
“Hmm?”  
“You’re a bastard.”  
Kyoya laughed, looking up at his friend’s tired smile. “Yes, but that’s why you recruited me for your damn club.”  
“And look at us now.”  
“Yes.” Kyoya looked back at his work. “Thank you, Tamaki. For everything. I’ve wanted to say it for so long, but I didn’t have the words, I suppose.”  
“She’s really changed you, Kyoya. In a good way.”  
Kyoya made a small noise of affirmation. “Tamaki.”  
“Yes?”  
“If you don’t marry Haruhi, I will make your life a living hell.”  
Kyoya caught the math book as it flew towards him, returning his friend’s laughter whole-heartedly.  
…  
Less than twenty-four hours later, Jenna called him back.  
“She says that they have no idea where she is,” she said. “I didn’t get the impression she was lying. She was grilling me for information.”  
“I’d wondered if Melanie was hiding from them,” Kyoya replied. Something about this made him feel better. “She’ll resurface. I’m sure she’s fine.”  
“You’ll call, yes?”  
“If you will.”  
Kyoya pushed the box of her belongings into the deepest recesses of his closest. He got back into his club activities, his studies, and quietly observing Tamaki’s floundering attempts for Haruhi’s attention, which he didn’t seem to know he already had.  
He kept an eye on Hikaru, who was still taking Melanie’s absence pretty hard. Tamaki thought they should talk to him, but Kyoya thought it best to leave that up to Kaoru. The twins had no experience with loss: they’d never let anyone close enough give them a chance to leave. Perhaps it was selfish, but Kyoya thought the experience was probably a good exercise for Hikaru.  
He couldn’t say the same for himself. While the daytime had become quietly restructured and controlled, he could not contain his dreams.  
The crude ones were easy enough to handle. Of course he’d dream of running his hands over creamy skin dusted with freckles, having a hot mouth with adorably unbalanced lips work its way down his body. She had been his first kiss after all, the first girl to ignite that hot masculine side of him. Until her, Kyoya pretended to ignore the twins’ snide comments about his sexuality being neither straight nor gay, but money.  
Yes, the crude ones were easy. He would wake up hot and bothered and slip out of his boxers with no fanfare and little emotion. As his body bucked and his teeth clenched, he was able to think about her in a way that didn’t hurt so much. And then lock her away in a part of his mind he very rarely accessed while in the company of others.  
It was the dreams where she wasn’t nude and arching into him that he was having trouble handling. In one reoccurring one, they would be in the scene of the final sketch, a warm wind dancing across their skin like a caress.   
Sometimes she would sing and he’d lead her around on their strangely firm aquatic dance floor. Other times they simply laid around and watched the clouds pass, her small fingers brushing gently through his hair. In these dreams, one kiss from her, one touch, was infinitely more erotic than any of the other dreams his hormone addled brain could produce.  
The days after these dreams were the worst—even if he woke up with morning wood, mouthing her name as he finished, she refused to be pushed back in the box he kept her in. During those days, he was absent, distracted. He spent a lot of time in his mind with her.  
But each day, like all the others, passed. Kyoya was amazed to see the weeks melt by. Sometimes Jenna would call to check in, but as one month became two, as Christmas came and went, Kyoya felt that he finally had a hold of himself again. No, he wasn’t whole. But he wasn’t devastated, either. Everything returned to a kind of normal.  
So of course this is when Hotta would burst through the doors of the clubroom as everyone was getting ready to leave. His dramatic entrance drew an adorably embarrassing squeak out of Haruhi.  
“Sir!”  
Kyoya eyed him suspiciously. The man was out of breath, and his sweaty face seemed reluctant, as if he weren’t sure if being there was okay.  
“I have some…news.” His eyes darted to Kyoya’s friends before finding their way back to Kyoya.  
“Alright.” Kyoya stood and approached the man. “Is this a private matter?”  
“Well, I’m not sure.” Hotta’s brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t think you’d mind if your friends knew.”  
Kyoya nodded. “Then go ahead.”  
“Melanie’s been admitted to a hospital outside the city. She collapsed at her job—severe pneumonia.”  
“That’s deadly, isn’t it?” The distress and disbelief was evident in Kaoru’s voice.  
“She should be okay, but she’s in terrible shape,” Hotta said.   
The room seemed to spin for a moment. It was so silent: was anyone breathing? Kyoya reminded himself to draw in some air, albeit unevenly. “How do you know all this?”  
“A girl I’m seeing has a cousin who works there. She told her about this rich person’s niece in her ward that had the prettiest red hair. I called the hospital and affirmed it myself.”  
“Okay.” Kyoya felt himself nod once. And then again.  
“For the love of God, Kyoya!” Tamaki snapped. “What are you going to do?”  
“I’m going to call Jenna and tell her.” He turned to meet his friend’s blazing eyes with a roboticism that was frighteningly easy. “And then I’m going home to study.”  
“You should go to her.” The disapproval was acidic in Mori’s tone.  
Kyoya shook his head slightly.  
“Kyoya, I agree,” Haruhi said gently.  
“Perhaps this weekend,” he conceded. He turned away as Tamaki’s mouth fell open in outrage. He didn’t want to hear the lecture. “She doesn’t want to see me, remember.”  
If Kyoya had been looking at his friends instead of walking mechanically away, he’d have seen Tamaki throw up his hands in frustration, only to pause under Haruhi’s steady hand on his bicep. He’d have seen Hikaru staring intensely at the ground, and Kaoru staring intensely at Hikaru. He’d have seen Mori shoot Honey a glance, which he returned with a shrug.  
But he didn’t see any of that. He was too busy trying to keep his heart from tearing itself apart with sharp, angry nails.


	15. In Which Kyoya Snoops

Kyoya’s resolve only held for three days. He pressed this thumb against his bottom lip, and watched the city dissolving slowly outside the car window. Hotta said nothing, but gave him a meaningful glance as Kyoya climbed out of the car.  
He wasn’t sure what to expect as he stood outside her closed hospital door. He felt a nurse approach and wait patiently behind him.  
“If she’s sleeping, please don’t wake her.”  
He turned to take in the small, middle-aged woman. Her face was creased with exhaustion, but her eyes were as kindly as her smile.  
“It’s very hard to get her to sleep,” she explained. “She doesn’t often close her eyes, and when she does, it’s usually not for long.”  
“Because of the pneumonia?” he asked.  
She shook her head. “She says she doesn’t want to face her dreams.”  
Kyoya’s heart threatened to cut off his air. He swallowed thickly and nodded, turning back towards the door. He dawdled, noting that the nurse didn’t move on.  
“Are you Kyoya?” she asked softly after a long moment.  
He turned back to her, his brow creasing.  
“When they brought her in, her fever was incredible. She was hallucinating, and though she was hard to understand, she kept saying that one name.”  
“Yes. I’m Kyoya.” His voice was so low it was almost unintelligible.  
The woman nodded and hugged her clipboard to her chest. “We don’t have many long-term patients here, so I’ve been spending a lot of time with her. She hasn’t had any visitors before you.”  
“How long has she been here?”  
“About a week and a half, now.”  
“Is she any better?”  
“She is,” the nurse said, though he didn’t miss the hesitancy in her voice. “Her fever is down some, though she can’t seem to shake it. Sometimes when she’s awake, she’s not really awake. And her lungs are very, very wet. Once the fever’s down and she can take deep breaths, we’ll send her home. She shouldn’t be here too much longer. It’s just a waiting game for now.”  
He nodded and turned back to the door. He felt a lot calmer. As his hand came to rest on the door knob, the nurse disappeared down the hall without another word.  
As he entered the room, his sight was overcome by the soft yellow light pouring in from the dying day. The room itself was small and orderly, and smelled faintly of cleaning products. His eyes roamed over the hospital bed, and the form pressed between stiff sheets and a thin blanket.  
Her eyes were closed. He breathed out, not realizing he’d been holding his breath, and stepped more fully into the room. Her bed was elevated slightly, so that she was between laying and sitting. He approached her slowly, his eyes glued to her face.  
She was a little sweaty, her skin almost colorless. Her cheeks weren’t as round as he remembered, and he wondered if she’d lost weight. She had dark circles under her papery lids, and even her freckles seemed dull. There was a cannula under her nose, and as he came to her bedside, he heard short breaths rattle out of her dry throat.  
He sat carefully in the chair next to her bed. His chest felt as tight as hers sounded. After a few long moments, he leaned forward and took her hand in his.  
It was cold and sweaty, but felt achingly like her. A shock ran up his spine, making his limbs tingly, and before he knew it, his eyes were burning. He lowered his head and pressed his other hand to his mouth.  
As the first tears fell from his eyes, he squeezed them shut. He was relieved and miserable and strangely bewildered. It felt good to cry, and he wondered if he should have taken a hint from her: sometimes the release was better than struggling not to feel. He didn’t need to be a mushball, but he shouldn’t deny the pain, either.  
Kyoya wasn’t sure how long he stayed there. It seemed like forever, but that could have been an illusion created by the quickly evaporating winter sunlight. When he managed to pull himself together, he eased back in the chair, keeping a hold of her hand.  
She never stirred.  
Eventually, he stood to leave.  
“I’ll be back,” he whispered before slipping out of her room.  
The next day was more of the same. She was sleeping when he got there around noon, and didn’t move once, not even when he rubbed gentle circles across the skin of her hand. He sat there until three, his eyes wandering idly around the room.  
He tried to ignore the sketchbook on the bedside table. He really did. But as the hours rolled by, he decided it couldn’t hurt to skim through it. He had all her others memorized anyway. Pulling his hand out of hers, Kyoya picked up the notebook. He flipped it over. Handwritten across the front was a label: A Study of Love.   
His brow furrowed. Kyoya ran a hand over the small, neat writing, so familiar to him now. This was one sketchbook he’d never seen before.  
Glancing up, he made sure she was still sleeping. For some reason, he felt like maybe he shouldn’t open this one without her permission. That wasn’t going to stop him, however. His eyes dropped back to the book and he opened it.  
The very first one was too familiar: the chandelier. His eyes instinctually latched onto the small fragment on the bottom. Beside the representation of him was a red-haired beauty in a ridiculously large blue gown. They were looking up, her expression embarrassed, and his mildly curious. There was a date at the bottom: the day after the party.  
The next was a sketch of just him. It bore the same date. He was looking down slightly, his eyes hard and flat behind his glasses. Mouth stretched in a pleasant smile, he seemed politely bored and a little condescending.  
So this is what she means by cold, he thought, a wry smile twisting across his mouth.  
The next one was of them on the balcony. Melanie’s face was hidden, a hand up to presumably wipe away her tears. This time, Kyoya’s expression was genuinely concerned, a little uncomfortable looking.  
Kyoya flipped through the pages as though in a trance. Here it was: a timeline of them, of their thing as she had once called it. He was seeing everything through her eyes for the very first time.  
As he turned a page that featured them at her kitchen counter, cooking together, his eyes caught the following image. A heat instantly shot through him, blooming in his face and shooting down his spine. It was their first kiss, but there was so much detail that it was terrifyingly realistic. Their mouths were fused together, his hands buried in her hair while hers were ducked under his shirt.  
It took him a good while to process the whole scene. When he’d had time to digest, it dawned on him that she may have documented everything, which was simultaneously embarrassing and so fucking hot he could barely stand it.  
He glanced up at her for a moment before turning the page. There were a few less dramatic scenes—them laying on the floor of her apartment listening to music, both of them hunched over textbooks, and one or two of them with the host club. There was even one of the day he gave her the Ghibli mug and she’d given them their paintings.  
Kyoya wasn’t too surprised when he turned the page and there was another intimate scene. She was perched on the edge of the counter, and they were staring into each other’s eyes. He could feel the heat rolling off of them, the energy snapping in the air. One of his hands was on the back of her neck, the other cupping one of her breasts under her shirt. His pants were undone and slug low across his hips. Melanie’s slender fingers were toying with the elastic of his boxers, and her teeth were sunk low into her bottom lip.  
Suddenly, Kyoya’s pants felt uncomfortably tight. He quickly turned the page, trying to erase the memory of that day quickly. The next page was something completely alien to Kyoya, instantly distracting him.  
It was Hashimoto. His face was tightly controlled, his eyes dead, expression colder than a Siberian winter. Hands crossed behind his back, he stared Kyoya down. Kyoya’s eyes roamed the scene. There was some sort of library behind Hashimoto, and a table in front of him—  
Kyoya brought the sketchbook up to his face. On the table in front of Hashimoto were photographs spread out on a table. They were blurry and small, but he was sure he was in them, with Melanie.  
He quickly flipped the page and was rewarded with small sketches of various lewd acts: Melanie stripping off his shirt, Kyoya’s lean body hovering solidly over her, his mouth covering the tip of Melanie’s breast…  
He flipped the page quickly, not wanting to be distracted. He was standing in his bedroom window, backlit, one hand waving hesitantly. The last time she’d seen him.  
Kyoya expected the next page to be blank. His stomach jerked unpleasantly when he realized it wasn’t.  
It was a full page of Melanie’s face. Her cheek was pressed against the floor of her apartment, eyes shiny and miserable. One tear dripped out and ran over her nose, on its way to landing on the floor.   
The next one was her curled in on herself, eyes squeezed closed and fingers digging into her hair. She was covering her ears. On the table next to her was her cell phone. Across the screen flashed Kyoya’s name.  
The following ones had no people: one was of her empty apartment, one familiar box sitting on the coffee table. The following was of an even smaller, more rundown apartment. There were no windows, and a blanket and pillow tossed in the middle of the room seemed to constitute as the bed. Then a small flower shop, as well a bakery. He checked the dates and wondered if these places were where she was working.  
One of her staring into a mirror. He sucked in a breath. She was too thin, her eyes sunken and dull. She had a hand pressed to her mouth, and her forehead was creased as if she were in pain. He couldn’t stop staring at it. His heart thumped painfully in his chest.  
Then there were some odd ones of him. They were just small doodle-esque drawings, him smiling, frowning, looking pensively off into the distance. He turned the page, but it was all blank after that.  
He closed the book and leaned back in the chair. After a moment, he raised his eyes to Melanie’s face. She was still sleeping, and though her breathing sounded so harsh, she seemed relatively peaceful.   
“So these are your feelings, eh?” The words barely made a sound as they left his lips.  
Kyoya placed the book on the bedside table and left the room. He pulled out his phone to text Hotta.  
“She’s been asking for flowers.”  
Kyoya stopped and turned to the sound of the voice. Behind him, the middle aged nurse he’d met the day before. She stood with her clipboard pressed to her chest, and there was a gentle smile creasing around her eyes.  
“Since she hasn’t had any visitors, she’s been asking me to buy her flowers,” she said.  
His hands folded into his pockets. After a moment, he nodded.  
The woman beamed. “Her fever is down today. We’re optimistic about it breaking as quickly as tomorrow.”  
Kyoya nodded again, giving a small smile, before he turned and made his way to the elevators. He wondered if it had been so obvious that he hadn’t wanted Melanie to know he’d been there, but now he was thinking that it would have been nice to have her expecting him.  
Hotta bowed slightly and opened the car door for Kyoya. Before he ducked into the car, Kyoya met the older man’s gaze, his own expression serious.  
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” he said. “But first we’ll stop at a flower shop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://positivecomet.tumblr.com/


	16. Is it the Pneumonia, or…?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kyoya and Melanie finally confront the past.

“How is she?”  
Kyoya stared at Tamaki’s text, letting out a slow breath as the elevator came to a stop. “I’ll tell you after I see her,” he typed back.  
“Today’s the day. I can tell.”  
Kyoya pocketed his phone without replying. His feet felt strangely weighted as he made his way down the hall, flowers crinkling in their packaging. Tamaki was probably right: today he would actually face Melanie.  
He heard the coughing before he even approached her door. A jolt ran through him, and he ground to a halt right outside. The door was slightly ajar, and he heard a nurse speaking in soothing tones inside.  
Before he could chicken out, he knocked quietly.  
“Come in,” a voice rang out.  
He complied slowly, his eyes instantly landing on the familiar nurse. She was perched on the edge of Melanie’s bed, holding the younger girl’s hand tightly. She smiled at him before his eyes slid to Melanie.  
Her face was red, and looked terrified. She made a strangled sort of sound before she was back to the wet, heavy coughs he’d heard from the hall. Kyoya watched tears slide out of her eyes before she squeezed them closed.  
Her body tipped forward, attempting to curl in on itself, but the nurse put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You have to try and sit tall. It will help you hack up the gunk.”  
Melanie’s eyes opened to glare at the woman, though she was obviously struggling to comply. The nurse placed Melanie’s hand over her own chest, taking in a deep breath. Immediately, Melanie attempted to draw in a deep breath herself, her eyes darting between Kyoya and the nurse.  
Kyoya tried to contain the wild banging of his heart. He’d been hoping she’d be asleep, but that was something cowardly inside him. After another few long moments, Melanie’s coughing subsided, and Kyoya’s breathing felt a little easier as well.  
“So next time that happens, don’t panic.” The nurse replaced Melanie’s hand in her lap. “Press the button if you need me. This young man has been waiting for several days for you to be awake.”  
Melanie’s eyes widened and Kyoya felt his neck burn under her critical gaze. He willed his feet to move, but only seemed to get the momentum after the nurse nudged him a little on her way out.   
Kyoya couldn’t meet Melanie’s eyes as he approached her bedside. He pulled the chair close to the bed, set the flowers down on the table next to her, and, before he could think better of it, he reached out and took her hand.  
It was cold and sweaty, even more so than the day before. Her fingers gave a little spasm in his, clenching and relaxing quick enough that he wondered if he’d imagined it. As the silence stretched between them, he managed to track his gaze up her arm, to the blue hospital dress skewed over her shoulder and exposing her collarbone. He followed the pattern of soft freckles up her neck until his eyes finally came to rest on hers.  
Her breathing was harsh, dragging raggedly between her lips. Her face was red, sweaty, and big, fat tears were rolling silently over the crest of her cheeks. She sniffled, and he offered her a small smile.  
Her lips pinched together, her bottom one coming out in a sort of pout. Before he could react, her hand was clinging to his, and she started sobbing. He wanted to reach out, to stop the shaking of her shoulders—really, she shouldn’t be crying so hard when she could barely breathe—but instead he scooted the chair closer to the bed. His eyes dropped off her face, and he brought her hand up to touch his lips, briefly.  
She let out a gurgly little whine which did all sorts of terrible things to his heart. He blinked hard to clear his vision that was suddenly swimming.  
“K-k-k—”  
“I’m here.” His voice was gruffer than he intended, thick with his own emotion. He lifted his eyes back to hers. “I’m here with you.”  
She stopped breathing then. He looked into the brilliant blue of her eyes, thinking that, God, he should be so angry with her but all he could feel was this terrible sort of relief. She nodded after a thick moment, her breath rattling out again. She pressed her free fist to her face, obscuring her eyes from him and easing back onto her pillows.  
They stayed like that for a while, her eyes emptying of tears and his thumbs rubbing comforting circles into her hand (though he wasn’t exactly sure who he was comforting).  
He also wasn’t sure how long they sat there, her choked little breaths filling the silence. Only when she pulled her hand away did he allow himself to sit back in the chair, relaxing a little. Her hand stayed in his, and that’s all he really cared about anyway.  
“I should have known,” she said eventually. “I should have known it would be harder to get rid of you.”  
Her voice was hoarse, and he wasn’t sure if it was the pneumonia or the crying jag. “When can I take you home?” he asked.  
Her breathing hitched and she looked away. “Well. My fever’s back up.”  
“They told me it should break today.” His brows pulled together.  
“Oikawa-san says that we can’t rush healing,” Melanie said. She seemed immensely tired in that moment.  
Kyoya studied her face. She seemed pained, but he couldn’t tell exactly why. Maybe it was all of it.  
“Is this okay?” he asked softly. He rubbed her hand again for emphasis.  
A strange sort of chuckle broke free from her lips. Her eyes darted to his face before looking away again. The silence stretched and stretched. Kyoya did not remove his fingers from hers.  
“Why don’t you hate me?”  
It was said so quietly that Kyoya wasn’t sure he heard correctly. He sighed and stood, leaning easily over her bed and pressing a kiss to her sweaty temple. “I love you,” he whispered against the skin there.  
She nodded a little, swallowing thickly. After a moment, she said, “My uncle—”  
“And my father.” He leaned back so she could meet his eyes. “I don’t know specifics. But I know that.”  
“I don’t know specifics either,” she admitted. Her eyes followed his body as he sat back in the chair. “My uncle told me to stop seeing you. I didn’t. He took all the money out of my bank account—I was left with absolutely nothing.”  
“You were too proud to ask me for help,” he deadpanned. His brow twitched up without his permission.  
“Yes.” She swallowed hard. “But I also understood that they would punish you. I didn’t want you to have to decide what to do about your future. It felt easier to make the decision myself.”  
There was suddenly so much he wanted to say, but everything got stuck under his Adam’s apple. He cleared his throat to unblock the words, but they refused to come.  
“I knew you wouldn’t let me go,” she continued. “I hoped that maybe when you realized what I’d done, you’d be too angry to look for me.”  
He laughed, and it loosened something in his chest. “I haven’t been angry with you. I kept waiting for it, but it wouldn’t come.” He saw her take in his amusement. “I did look for you. For a long time.”  
“But you gave up.” Her voice was frayed around the edges.  
“Self-preservation,” Kyoya said. “I was spiraling. My father commanded me to stop. I realized then that he’d been the one to contact Hashimoto, and that if I didn’t stop, I would probably completely fall apart.”  
She took in a shaky breath but didn’t look away.  
“Why didn’t you tell Jenna?” he asked. “She called me, and your aunt. She was terrified.”  
“I had to sell my computer. And honestly I didn’t think about my cell phone until the service cut out. Then I sold that, too.” The guilt in her eyes threatened to drown him. “Did you tell her you found me?”  
“Yes, and she’s—and I quote—absolutely fucking pissed at you.”  
A small smile cracked across Melanie’s dry lips.   
“If you sold your laptop, how are you doing school?” he asked.  
“I’m…not.”  
He decided to let that pass for now. “What about for work?”  
“I’m a part-timer at a bakery, and at a flower store. They’ve been very good to me,” she said.  
“And how did your pneumonia get so bad?”  
She gave him a rueful grin. “Got caught up in the hustle.”  
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “I figured it was something like that.”  
“You’re not going to lecture me?”  
He looked up at her, a scary smile splitting his gloomy expression. “I think I’ll leave that up to Mori-senpai.”  
Melanie seemed terrified, which drew a chuckle from him. Suddenly, the air rushed from his lungs, and a strange emotion took over him as they looked at each other. He could tell Melanie felt the shift in mood as well. It was in the way her eyes started shining again, the delicate shaking of her bottom lip.  
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”  
He nodded heavily. After a moment, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. He inhaled against the skin there, and thought he caught the faint smell of vanilla on her feverish skin.


End file.
